Harry Potter and the Stone of Greed
by DiMencia
Summary: Dark version of the Philosopher's stone. Whole AU Synopsys - Harry, Ron, and Hermione all are sorted in Slytherin for diverse reasons. Through this re-telling of the Harry Potter series they all become fascinated with the Dark Arts and when Voldemort attacks Hogwarts, he is not defeated. He is replaced. (Part 1 of 7 - Retelling of the Philosophers Stone.)
1. Slytherin!

**Greetings. This was a request made on Instagram that I happily accepted and have been working on for a few days now. I look forward to retelling the stories we all know and love, revisiting the places and the characters but this time with a darker twist to it all. So, please read on and do not hesitate to leave reviews, as they help me keep moving on and working on my writing.**

'Damn the sorting hat.' That was all that went through the mind of young Miss Granger as she sat down with a frown on the Slytherin table. During the train ride she had read through all four of the Houses in Hogwarts, studied their odds and ends and her own self-diagnosis had placed her in Ravenclaw. All the first years had stood in the middle of the great hall, nervous as to what table would seat them for the next seven years. The ginger boy, Weasley or whatever had been beside her as well, slightly nervous at standing so close to Harry Potter himself. She had read his entire biography which had been written in the History book she had bought at Flourish and Blots, written by Bathilda Bagshot. Her name was called, snapping her out of her reverie and she shakily but resolutely walked up to the wooden chair beside the tall witch dressed in green. Hermione closed her eyes as the worn leather of the Sorting Hat rested on her head and waited.

"Hmm… Interesting," said the article of clothing. "You have talent and a mind for knowledge. Ravenclaw would do well with you. But you are also brave and fear only that which should be feared. Bravery is a good trait in Gryffindor. And what of Hufflepuff? A house were alike minds meet, friends are made and bring each other up…" In her mind, Hermione pictured her life as a Hufflepuff and all she saw was others standing on her shoulders and pressing down on her, boosting themselves up with her sacrifices, much like the muggle children had done with her in the muggle schools she had attended, pretending to be her friends only to treat her as a slave. The thought was not necessarily appealing and the Hat noticed this. "So, where to put you… Not Hufflepuff, that much is clear to me. Ravenclaw would be a good choice as well as Gryffindor… Then it's decided. SLYTHERIN!" He shouted as loud as a hat could shout and Hermione looked aghast at the table far to her right, all of them clapping at the induction of a new student. 'Not possible!' She thought to herself as the Sorting Hat was taken off her head. "Very much possible." Replied the Hat as Minerva McGonagall hefted it in one hand and red the next name out loud.

On went the night. More first years made their way to the Sorting Hat and then meandered to their respective tables. At long last, the line grew shorter and it was Harry Potters turn. Minerva McGonagall looked on at the boy, seeing his scar and going back to the days when she had scouted the house in Privet Drive. He had grown… And it seemed that in more ways than one. Minerva smiled at Harry who made his way up the stone steps and felt genuinely happy as he gave her a nervous smile in return. To Harry, this all felt like a dream yet the leather of the hat sat heavy atop his head and the wooden chair was real enough beneath him. "Young… Potter…" Began the Sorting Hat, thinking to itself. There was chaos in this one, conflicting natures that battled for dominance. As with the Weasley boy, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw would not contain the spirit that burned within this boy. "Gryffindor would be a worthy house. Your parents belonged in it as did many of their friends. All of them brave, all of them courageous and most of them loyal." A hush fell over the crowd and the teachers at the table shifted around, talking amongst themselves. The Hat was of course referring to Sirius Black, the convicted murderer who had directed the Dark Lord to James and Lily Potters safe house. "And there is Slytherin, where you could be free… Where you could learn to be great… Then again… The wizard that gave you that scar-"

At this, Harry sighed. "He was also in Slytherin." Thoughts flew within young Potter's mind, mingling and crashing against each other in a cacophony of indecision. To many in the hall this was a deciding moment in history. Many made private bets amidst houses, the overwhelming majority saying he would go to Gryffindor, a few to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and almost nobody saying that he would join Slytherin. Those that did were mocked, earning some jeers from the tables that slowly escalated until Dumbledore himself stood and lifted his hands, the gesture drawing the attention of all that could see. "Please, be quiet." He asked softly before sitting down once more, hand over his beard so as to not dip it in his bowl of soup.

The hall knew a silence that had almost never been heard of before with students within it. "Are you certain of this?" Asked the hat, knowing what went through Harry's mind. To Harry it was a simple choice. Many times had Petunia called Dudley her knight and brave warrior before turning a poisonous gaze at him, almost as if the sight of him made her physically ill. If that was what being a brave knight meant then he was happy leaving the spot in Gryffindor to someone else. "Very well then… SLYTHERIN!" Shouted again the Hat, not for the last time in that night, as Minerva grabbed the hat and gave a gentle to nod to Harry. He made his way to the cheering table, all of the students that sat around it standing as they roared their approval of the hats selection. Money changed hands, many bemoaning the trickery of fate on a few lost galleons and those that had made their winning bets grinned to themselves as their pockets grew fatter with gold.

Harry found the long curly hair of Hermione, his new friend whom he had met earlier in the train, talking to another Slytherin and sat beside them both. He mingled, talking to new people and socialized, many of the students fascinated with his scar, asking to see it and shaking their heads in amazement. They had not believed it until they saw it and now they were ecstatic to have such a notorious child-wizard in their house.

More students sat under the Hat and were sorted into different houses, who were followed by Ron, one of the last students left. "Ronald Bilious Weasley!" Called the professor, watching as the nervous ginger made his way up the steps, almost tripping in his hand-me down robes before sitting down on the wooden chair to her side. The Hat did its job and studied his mind. "Ron Weasley. Your entire family has belonged to Gryffindor House and it is a noble house to belong to indeed. Many great wizards came from it, brave warriors all of them and kind and just." To this Ron could only picture his siblings as they teased him and made jokes at his expense. To be fair it was part of family life but he didn't like, no. He slightly, almost microscopically shook his head. "So… you want to go down a different path?" Asked the hat, who knew what was in the mind of the young Weasley. Hearing this Fred and George Weasley turned to each other in surprise. What did the Sorting Hat mean? They asked themselves. Surely Ron would join them, his family. He had to. It was expected of him.

Ron then made a decision. He thought of a simple choice of words that he repeated over and over in his mind while the Hat worked its magic, 'Not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor…' He was done with tradition and blind faith. In his mind swirled the admonitions recited earlier that day by his mother, the enchanting Mrs. Weasley. All talking about the glory of belonging to the bravest house of them all, how she would knit him a nice sweater to send him to for Yuletide, and how all of his ancestors till back to when an ape first hit another ape with a rock had belonged in Gryffindor. Ron Weasley, one of the youngest in his family, who at only eleven had so many expectations on his shoulders.

"Not Gryffindor…? Then for you there is only one other house. Ravenclaw and Hufflepluff would be too tame for you, my friend. A place where you would thrive amongst your equals and those that want to wield unimaginable power… Perhaps a means to escape?" Young Ron pursed his lips, deep in thought. If he took this next step away from tradition it could very much mean tension with his family. But, he mused to himself, it would be a good beginning to ending the misconceptions around the Weasleys. This way he could prove they were not merely a family of weak redheads that survived on hand-me-downs. The Sorting Hat lay still for a moment, almost as if it were drinking in the tension. Over in the Gryffindor table sat Fred, George and Percy. The three were in deep conversation amidst the silence that reigned while people waited for the redhead to get sorted and to move on

"SLYTHERIN!" It bellowed and only then did many people begin murmuring, whispers filling the air of the great hall as they talked in hushed voices. Was this not one of the Weasley boys? Sure enough, he had a shock of red hair and by the fraying of his sleeves it could be seen that he was related to the terrible twins from Gryffindor. So what was he doing, joining Slytherin? Some talked in contempt, delighting in finding another reason to find fault in the humble family. Others talked with preoccupation, for it seemed to them that the apple had fallen away from the tree. None of them noticed the shock on the faces of those that sat at Gryffindor table, surprised and some distraught. They had heard good things about Ron from Percy and more than a story or two of embarrassing events. Fred and George talked on between themselves, not noticing their brother who now sat beside Hermione and was looking at them. He looked on for several more seconds and when they failed to meet his eyes he lowered his gaze at the table, heart beating rapidly in apprehension. He was a sheep amidst wolves, his red hair not the only thing that made him stand out.

At once, the hall went silent once again and everyone turned their heads to watch the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, stand and smiled kindly. "Let the feast… Begin!" He said, clapping his hands and waving them at the tables as if sending a ripple through the air, causing food to appear on the long wooden surfaces. Harry could not believe his eyes, there was so much food before him and so many choices. Hermione looked on with a light in her eyes, amazed at the power displayed so effortlessly and without a wand as well. Ron however was not as entertained by the show as he was by the copious amounts of food before him, distracted in a similar manner as Harry. The hall lost the voices of students and gained the sounds of hungry mouths eating to their hearts delight, small conversation sparking up between the first years and the more seasoned students. Harry turned to the blond youth who sat beside him and extended his hand, carefully wiping to one of the napkins provided. "I am Harry." He said, smiling.

The boy turned around from the rather boring conversation he had been having with a family friend of his called Crabbe and firmly shook the hand proffered. "Draco. Draco Malfoy." He replied with a grin. "You are Harry Potter." It was not a question, but rather an affirmation of awe and respect. Harry grinned as well and nodded. "It's nice to meet you." He said, grabbing a bite of fried chicken and enjoying the flavorful meat. He rarely ate as well as this when he had been with the Dursleys. Harry pointed at Ron and Hermione who were behind him, talking together. "These are Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley." Their names being mentioned, they both angled themselves to look past Harry. Hermione smiled politely and extended a hand. Draco looked at it and gave it a shake, some of the other Slytherins snickering as he did so. Hermione noticed but she did not say anything, filing away the occurrence in the deep banks of her memory in order to research what had caused it to happen. The Malfoy kid looked nice enough and he had shaken her hand even at the possibility of embarrassment to himself.

Ron knew Draco, at least his last name. The Malfoy's and the Weasley's had been at odds for decades, whenever Arthur and Lucius met in Diagon Alley tensions rose and the air could be cut with a knife. That was the reason that Ron had wanted to join Slytherin. If he could change them from within and show them that they could co-exist then it would all be worth it. Thus, Ron extended a hand as well, leaning over the table and almost spilling his cup of pumpkin juice, causing some of the older students to chuckle at his clumsiness. Ears almost as red as his own hair, Ron stuck out his hand for Draco to take. "R-ron Weasley. Nice to meet you." Draco looked at the redhead, eyes squinting slightly before slowly taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Weasley?" Asked Draco once he released Ron's hand. "I've heard of your family before." Ron nodded once, swallowing noisily. "My dad works at the Ministry." He said, feeling a little nervous. Was Draco up to something? He wondered to himself before snapping back to reality as Draco gave him a grin. "I've heard of your dad. You seem like a nice guy though." Relief washed over Ron as he returned to his seat. The first step had been taken and now the long journey lay ahead. All acquainted now, the four ate while chatting amongst themselves, discovering each other's strengths and noting their uses. Well, at least Draco was noting down the strengths his new friends had. Such is the Slytherin way, to seek power and to use it however one deems fit. After all, might makes right, a concept that even Gryffindors understand though they may shy away from the opportunities presented by such a philosophy.

The night wore on and Draco knew some new things. Hermione possessed the gift of having an excellent memory and they both had some fun conversing in French while Ron and Harry looked on. Ron was a kind hearted Weasley, something that surprised Draco as the only references to the family he had were from his father. So, Draco learned that not all the things he was told by his father could be trusted. Harry was however, more intrigued by the scowling man that looked at the table and who seemed to be in a one-sided conversation with a turban-clad individual.

"Draco, who is that?" He said, pointing at the man who wore all black robes. The blond Slytherin turned around and saw. He grinned and pointed with a thumb over his shoulder. "That's our house-master, Severus Snape. He also teaches potions though my father tells me that he wants to teach Defense against the Dark Arts." Draco chuckled and took a sip from his goblet before continuing. "That guy with the weird head thing… I don't know who that is."

Harry did however. He had met the man in the Leaky Couldron while passing through with Hagrid. "Quirrel." He said and smiling as he felt Ron and Hermione lean over to his side. "Professor Quirrel… Odd, he didn't shake my hand when I met him. But he's the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher." Harry then felt as if someone were stabbing a thin knife through his temple, right along his scar. He gasped and clenched his teeth as his hand smacked against his forehead. Dracon, Ron and Hermione looked at him with concern and some alarm. "What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked, preoccupied but Harry waved it away. "It's nothing…" Although his eyes stung and he had to shake his head to clear it, it had hurt a great deal.

On went the time and they were dismissed to their common rooms, the students that had been sitting around the tables standing and making their exits, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs shouting and talking, mingling together. The prefects from Slytherin however chuckled to themselves and one of the females stood up at the head of the table. She had a shock of blue hair and mismatched eyebrows but her eyes denoted a sense of seriousness that belied her genial exterior. "Alright guys, while the rest of the heroes make their way up the stairs we are going down." The older Slytherins chuckled at themselves while the younger first years looked around. Just where was their common room, then?

"Down?" Asked one of the younger kids, a small boy with near-white hair, who seemed rather lost. "Yes, down." Replied the prefect and pointed at a spot near the teachers table, where Snape stood beside a large wooden door. "The other three houses have the common rooms in the towers. We have the dungeons." Harry and his friends looked as if someone had cast a stupefy curse on them. What did she mean? Draco muttered about his father hearing about this before they were swept up in the rush of Slytherins that made their way to their house-master. Orderly and surprisingly quiet, they walked along the tables and went through the door though when Harry and the rest were about to reach it, Snape stood before him and motioned to the side. "I'd like to have a… chat with Mr… Potter…" Slowly said the professor and Harry quickly stood to the side, Ron, Hermione and Draco following behind him. "Alone." Added Snape, eyeing with languid curiosity as the three returned to the large group of students that went on.

Harry waved goodbye at his friends and felt some happiness as they waved back. He was not used to having friends so this was a new experience for him. Snape stood silent beside the doorframe that had been carved into the stone walls, Harry dutifully standing at his side as the students glaced in curiosity at the two. Soon, the hall was empty and Snape turned to Harry, placing a hand on his small and rather thin shoulder. If the potions master was shocked at the malnourished state that Harry was in, he hid it well for nothing could be distinguished from his features save a mild frown. "You have your mothers eyes…" He commented, which shook Harry to the core.

"S-sir? You k-knew my parents?" He asked, curious. Perhaps he could answer some questions that Harry had been wondering about for years now. Snape nodded slowly, looking at Harry as if he held the answer to all questions and was a stubborn lock that had to be cracked. "Oh yes…" He said softly, glancing about the empty hall. "I… knew both of them. Your mother was a… kind hearted woman." There seemed to be something the memory of his mother that seemed to cause Snape discomfort and Harry did not press it further. Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "And my father?"

Unbeknownst to Harry, Snape's right eye twitched at the memory of James Potter but he let it go for the moment. "Him too… Though we were not exactly… friends…" It seemed to Harry that there was something going on. "Your father was a Gryffindor, like… your mother. I was sorted into Slytherin. Now, come along. It is time to go to the common room and I wish to talk to all of your house mates." Harry nodded absentmindedly, wondering what could have been the cause between this behaviors displayed by the professor. Granted, he had only met the man but Harry had a feeling that there was more to it all that Snape let on. He followed in silence, the billowing of the black robes in the air the accompaniment to their footsteps as they made their way lower into the castle, deep into the dungeons.

Snape led the way, wand raised in the air and flicking it once as he whispered the word 'Lumos,' the sound echoing softly in the hallways and the tip of his wand lighting up with a soft glowing light. "This way, Potter." He called as he made a sharp turn to the left, Harry struggling to keep up with the tall man and his long strides. On they went for a few more minutes, though to Harry it seemed a great deal longer than that as all of the passageways blurred into one long continuous hallway. At last they reached a large set of blackened iron double doors. On their surface could be seen a very intricately and detailed carving of a snake, the scales shimmering underneath the pale light of the spell cast by the professor. Harry stood still, somewhat afraid. He felt a connection to the snake, something primal… as if it were part of him. Its eyes glimmered red with small garnets and the body itself was inlaid with silver though the rest of the work was carved directly from stone and pressed into the iron of the doors. Whoever had built these doors had had a great deal of time and money in their hands. Harry felt the new weight of his wand within his pocket, his hand pressing it before looking at the door. "Is it magical?" He asked, though the professor stood still as if he had not heard the boy. Harry simply stared at the large snake, imagining it slithering off the iron and gliding over the floor. His heart beat harder and blood rushed into his ears as he imagined the snake turning to him, almost seeing the tongue flickering out as it approached his face...

As a matter of fact, Harry had spoken very softly and in a language he did not yet know he knew. The language of snakes and, some would say betrayal. To the layman (or woman) the idioms are terribly complicated to learn and many believe that it requires being descended from Salazar Slytherin himself to know this language. It is possible to learn it, however with the dark associations it has many wizards deem the notion of learning this language the passing fancy of many angst fueled moody students that study it in hopes of getting some shock value from the skill at their grandmothers' tea party. To himself, Harry merely asked if the door in question was of magical nature in perfectly good English and so, as neither party noticed anything odd happening, Snape and Harry stood before the door and waited.

What was happening at that moment was an initiation of sorts that had been started by Slytherin himself. It's objective had become murky over the centuries but the specifics were simple. Any Slytherin deemed worthy would stand before the doors of the Snake and they would open. If they did, then that student was a true member of the house of Slytherin. If they did not, their heart lacked the ambition and cunning to make proper use of their House. All Slytherins had those traits, but the doors had been enchanted to open before those that would be relentless with their gifts. Snape stood before the doors with his arms crossed, quietly going over the next day's lessons. He was somewhat relieved to see that the doors did not open before Harry, having seen Lily's eyes once more had been unsettling. He was glad that at least one of the students under his care was well… normal, at least in the eyes of the rest of the school. He would report this to Dumbledore of course, and he was glad for once to do so. The last time the doors had opened, Tom Riddle had been standing before them.

"Professor?" Asked Harry, losing his nervousness as he turned to Snape. "Professor, is there a reason you brought me here? I thought we were going to the common room…" Harry stopped and shrunk away from the tall potions teacher, the man's eyes gleaming with a sick luster. Snape had just relived an encounter he had had with James Potter many years back. The boy might have his mother's eyes but the rest was all from his father. Potter… The name resounded in his mind like an annoying fly that refused to be eradicated. This was going to be a long year, Snape knew that now.

With a flurry of cloth Snape turned around and stalked off on one of the passages behind them. "Over here, Potter." He called over his shoulder, a bewildered Harry following quickly behind.

 **Well now, you somehow made it to the end of this chapter. Do tell me what you think of it and what you'd like to see added to the story as well. I take all requests in consideration and weigh them against the general plan I have in mind. With that, I'll see you when I see you!**


	2. Trolls!

**I have several items to address so let's get to them. First, I am very pleased with the following this story is receiving. Second, I am extremely happy to see that people are enjoying it. Now I'll turn to the questions I got and will provide them with answers as well.**

 **Q: Will you continue writing this Dark AU after the First book?**

 **A: Yes, I have the intention of 're-telling' the Harry Potter stories with this dark twist. You may have noticed that this fiction is titled 'Harry Potter and the Stone of Greed.' That is a play on the original title of 'Philosopher's Stone.' Each new story will have a hidden twist to the original Harry Potter title.**

 **Q: Will Hermione face the prejudice caused by her status as a muggle-born?**

 **A: Most definitely. It will be a factor that leads her to the Dark Arts as a means of safety. Slytherin will eventually learn to not mock others for their parentage.**

 **Now with that out of the way, please enjoy this next chapter.**

Ronald Weasley was very nervous. The plush couch he sat upon was worth more than his second-hand robes and the threads of his sleeves ripped softly as he pulled his arm away from the expensive upholstery. The Slytherin common room was an intimidating place for him; great wealth was in display and treated as an everyday commodity. That was something that Ron found greatly intimidating. Having grown up in a large family that required a sparse lifestyle to make ends meet had caused Ron to treasure each galleon that made its way to his pockets. Normally he spent them a few days later on some knick-knack that caught his attention and later became forgotten, but Ron had many times lain in his bed at the top of the Barrow and imagined, just what it would be like to be a wealthy wizard. To have money to spare and not have to rely on a magical garden for his family to successfully make it through another month. His father's work at the Ministry was considered a joke by many of the people in it and their own children often teased the Weasley children in Hogwarts on their father's obsession with Muggles. Someone coughed in front of Ron and he looked up, eyes wide with startled attention. "Y-yeah?"

Draco had been sitting before the Weasley boy for a while now, the ginger too deep in thought to notice the world around him, it would seem. Most of the students had gone on to their dormitories but he had wanted to talk to his new housemate and understand him a little bit better. After all, this was a member of the legendary and infamous Weasley family, well… at least infamous in most pure-blood circles. They were all Gryffindors so what had caused Ron to be sorted into Slytherin? Draco steepled his fingers beneath his chin and cleared his throat which caused Ron to snap back to reality with a start, an event that amused Draco. "Ron, what are you doing here?" He asked, with seemingly genuine curiosity. "Your family… they are all Gryffindors." Ron nodded slowly, unsure of what Draco was getting to. "So… what are **you** doing in Slytherin? Why are you well… different."

Ron paused his train of thought for a moment. That was a good question with a hard answer. He couldn't just tell Malfoy, of all people, the real reason. But they were house-mates which meant that they could trust each other, right? Ron didn't know what to think and to be fair it was a rather intense situation for an eleven year old to find themselves in. He considered the question for a while, watching as Draco pulled out one of the spell books from the shelves nearest them and began reading it, the soft parchment hissing softly as its pages turned. Ron had heard many things about the Malfoys from his father and more on most Slytherins from his siblings. Charlie had once won a duel against one of the Slytherin students in his own year and when he had turned around he had been hexed with rainbow colored eyebrows, a particularly harmless if annoying spell. The Slytherin had been given detention for as long as Charlie had the eyebrows like that and after a month and a half they had finally relented beneath the toil, telling Severus Snape about the counter-curse in hopes of ending their punishment. Snape had forced the Slytherin to cast the counter-curse themselves and only after they had done so did the punishment end. Thus, Ron had grown up believing that he could not trust a Slytherin to keep their word. That was one of the reasons he had asked to join the house; to change them from within, for the better.

Meanwhile, Draco had been reading a rather interesting treatise on the uses of silver against Lycanthropy and the brewing of Wolfsbane, the book teaching him on the amount of silver required within the potion to severely weaken a werewolf and on how to deal with someone with the disease. Still, potions were not his forte however Draco made a mental note to show the book to the Granger girl. Who knew, perhaps her ability to remember could come in handy eventually. "I don't know." Draco looked up quickly at Ron, snapping the book shut and placing it on the table beside his own couch. "What?" He asked somewhat annoyed. Ron felt his ears glow red again and he bit his lip. He was terrified of the Slytherins as he felt that he had nothing in common with them. Maybe it had been a mistake to want to move away from the traditions of his family. Perhaps there was still a chance to get sorted into Gryffindor.

"I don't know why I'm here." Ron replied numbly, looking at his ratty clothes which had been worn by Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George respectively before reaching him. Magic was powerful tool but it had limitations. Some tears were beginning to show in the robes he wore, which caused Ron to cover his sleeves in embarrassment. He looked at the nicer clothes that Draco wore, custom made no doubt and all fitting perfectly. "You're right, Malfoy." He said, a little louder this time. "My family is all Gryffindor and I am a Slytherin. I don't know why… and I don't know if I belong here." Draco looked at Ron, eyes squinting as if he could read the Weasley's thoughts.

He lifted a hand and pointed with a finger to the snake banner that hung over the large fireplace. "Do you know much about Slytherin, Weasley?" He asked, standing up now and walking to the hearth, hands out for warmth as it was somewhat cold in the dungeon. Ron shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. "Not much… All I know comes from my siblings." Draco nodded, aware that Ron could not see him. Some minutes passed as thoughts flew through the younger blonde's head. This was one of the reasons why he was described as a leader by his relatives. He was finding a way to help a fellow Slytherin feel better about themselves. Never mind that for all intents and purposes they should not be friends. This was Slytherin, the Hogwarts house where each student cared for the rest like family. It did not matter if they had known each other for years, much like how Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had known each other, or if they had just met, as was the case at the moment. Slytherins are family, they are cunning, oft described as evil by people who focus only on the notorious dark wizards. Thus it is easy to forget the true ideals that embody the Serpent's House: cunning, ambition, resourcefulness, shrewdness and determination.

Draco pondered on all these things before he walked back to where Ron sat. He placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a faint squeeze. "The Sorting Hat placed you here for a reason, Ron Weasley. It does not make mistakes; that much I've been told by my father. Maybe you aren't as cunning as most would expect from you as a Slytherin but from what I've heard from some… friends of mine, you Weasleys are very determined and resourceful." He smiled at Ron, who grinned back and was feeling much better about himself. "Bloody hell Draco, you should be a motivational speaker…" Replied Ron, standing up and extending his hand. "I know we did this already in the Great Hall but this will mean more now. I'm happy to meet you Draco Malfoy. We'll be good friends." Draco smiled and nodded before giving the hand a firm shake. "Likewise, Ron Weasley. Likewise."

Hermione had been busy reading through the History of Hogwarts by Bathilda Bagshot in her bed, too excited to sleep even though she knew she had a full day of work ahead of her. Already through the most of the book, though she had started her readin with a positive disposition she was now biting back hot tears of embarrassment, her body quietly rocking with her crying. That was why the other students had laughed when she extended her hand for Draco to shake. She was what they called, a mudblood. A wizarding child from non-magical parents; mud in the clean gene-pool that was the wizarding world. She sniffed once and one of the girls in a bed beside hers told her to keep it down before mumbling something else and returning to sleep. She quietly closed the book and placed it on her night stand, laying on her bed and trying to do just that. There was no luck; her mind had too many thoughts flying through it. Hermione swung her legs over the side of her bed, bare feet softly tapping at the wooden floors and the stone steps as she made her way down to the common room, going slowly as she did not wish to inconvenience her fellow students again.

Ron and Draco were about to make their way to their own dormitory when they heard Hermione walking down the steps to the girl's room. She made her way to the fire, not noticing either of them and held out her hands for the fire to warm. It was rather damp as well, underneath the lake and all of that. Draco turned to Ron and Ron turned to Draco, both of them shrugging before making their way to her side. "You look like you've had a tough time." Commented Draco, causing her to jump in fright and push against Ron. He smiled and gave her arm a soft punch. "Come on Hermione, what's wrong? We're friends so it's okay to tell us." Hermione thought on the word, her agile mind going through many emotions in the span of seconds. "Friends… I've had friends." There was a faint poison in her words and Ron was taken aback by it. "Friends who wanted to use my mind for their benefit…" She shook her head, curly hair bouncing gently as she did so. Ron found it rather enchanting and Draco cleared his throat. Both Hermione and Ron turned to him, Ron curious and Hermione furious. However, Draco held in his hands a cup of tea which he had brewed with the tea-pot that lay beside the fires, a simple tap of his wand causing the pre-enchanted kettle to brew the perfect cup of tea. Hermioned looked at it before taking it in her hands, merely holding it. Draco did not mind, sometimes the act of holding a hot cup worked wonders. He knew it from experience and from what his mother had told him. "Come on Granger. Ron is right, we are your friends. Not that kind of friends, but you know… real ones." Hermione shrugged and blinked hard. "I'm a mudblood, right?" Ron looked aghast at her. "Hermione, who told you that?!" He asked her with shock but she did not reply.

Draco however, merely nodded at her. So, that was what had caused her emotions to overflow. Draco recalled how just hours ago most at the table had laughed at her decision to shake his hand. Now he was glad he had shaken it, even if he had wiped his hand clean for show when she was not looking. Hermione turned to Ron and shrugged, the motions jittery with pent up energy. "I was reading the History of Hogwarts book… It says that Salazar Slytherin hated my kind." Draco sighed and tapped the kettle once more, taking in his hand the aromatic cup and handing it to Ron before making another one for himself. "It's not the 10th century anymore, Granger." He was going to say some more but she shook her head. "No I heard the other students at the table. You're a pureblood, aren't you Malfoy. And you too, Weasley." Not questioning it but merely affirming her suspicions. Once more, Draco nodded and this time Ron followed suit. "And I have mud in my veins…" She sipped some of the tea and grimaced, content with holding it in her hands. It was rather tart.

Ron shook his head and placed the cup on one of the tables near them. "No Hermione, you don't have mud. That's just a dumb word people came up with so they could feel better about themselves even if they didn't have any right to feel that way." He was somewhat upset; after all it was a word that his parents had adamantly refused to utter within the Barrow. "I don't care what people say, Hermione. You are as much a witch as any 'pure-blood' in the girl's dorm." Draco nodded and pointed at her. "Remember this Granger. No one can make you feel bad without your consent."

Hermioned was impressed. It seemed that the Sorting Hat had been right and that she had found some real friends after all. Just then the doors to the common room opened and in stepped Harry Potter, followed by the foreboding visage of their house-master, who quickly glanced at the three of them. Ron snapped around, almost kicking the table his tea-cup was on. "Aw shi-"

"What… Is going on… Here…?" Asked the professor as Harry joined his friends, glad to see them again. Draco grinned and shrugged. "Nothing Professor, we're just-" Snape would have none of it though, no. "I know perfectly well what I see, Malfoy. Three students out of bed when tomorrow they have a double lesson of potions first thing… in the morning…" Ron groaned to himself. Potions had always seemed like tedious work. The mention of the class jogged Malfoy's memory and he made a more permanent mental note of handing Hermione the book he had been reading earlier. Harry however would have none of it. "Sir that's not fair, I've only got back so really it's not that late." Snape closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his hooked nose. "Mr. Potter do you intend to have me set a new precedent for taking points… from my **own** house…?" Harry shook his head mutely. "Good…" Said Snape. "Now off to bed the four of you and no marauding… about the castle." Snape almost had an apoplectic fit once he realized what he had said but only he noticed it as Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ron made their way to their own dormitories, the boys waving goodbye to Hermione who smiled and waved back, making her way to her bed with a smile. She had friends… She had friends. She climbed into bed, the covers warm and keeping the chill of the stone floors at bay. Drowsily at last, she made a mental note to send an owl to her parents and telling them about her first day. Then, she drifted off to sleep, a soft smile on her lips as she dreamed of climbing the highest mountains and diving into the deepest of seas.

The three boys made their way up their stairs and into their own section of the boy's dormitory where they changed into their nightclothes, Malfoy's own pajamas emblazoned with the crest of Slytherin. Ron, however, forlornly looked at his trunk. The Gryffindor insignia stood out amidst all of his possessions. He picked it up and turned to Harry and Draco who paused and looked at him, Harry with curiosity and Draco with amusement. "My mom was so sure I'd be in Gryffindor…" Ron said softly before placing the shirt over his chest. "What do you think?" He asked them. Harry shrugged, not really seeing the issue but Draco understood. "Looks like you are ready to get lynched by our house-mates." He grabbed his second set of pajamas and tossed to Ron's bed. "Here Weasley, use mine until you get new ones." He meant well but he still did not know what exactly to make of Ron.

Harry had a very old pair of pants, one of the knees scrapped with a hole on it and an old shirt that had belonged to Dudley at some point. He put them on and slid underneath the covers, surprised at the size of the beds. The wooden frame alone was bigger than the cupboard he had been forced to live in for his entire life. Silence reigned in the dorm and soon all three boys were asleep.

The night passed and Harry woke to the sound of bustling individuals, conversation and taunts. For a moment, Harry panicked and could not remember where he was. Where the Dursley's having guests over? He arose and blinked several times while he searched for his glasses, vision blurry until he placed the lenses over his eyes. This was most definitely not the cupboard. Then he remembered the events of the previous day and felt genuinely happy. It had not all been a dream. "Wake up, Potter!" Called Draco from the other side of the room, already dressed in his robes and sitting on the wooden footboard, languidly looking at Ron as he struggled to brush down the lapel of his robes. Some stitching was coming undone and if he was not careful, he'd rip through one of the sleeves. Harry had had better luck with his attire, having purchased it directly from Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Once dressed, they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast before that morning's double potion's lessons.

They found Hermione who was sitting by herself at the Slytherin table and they promptly sat down by her, muttering greetings through drowsy mouths. Hermione handed them that day's edition of the Daily Prophet, the magical newspaper that so many wizards read to keep up with the times. "I'm done reading it." She said, picking a piece of toast and proceeding to drown it in butter. Harry shrugged and took it, Draco and Ron eating while he read it. Nothing interesting seemed to be going on, there had been some events that were considered to be the doing of followers of the Dark Lord but despite that, Harry got the impression that all was well in the wizarding world. They ate in moderate silence, at times talking amongst them whenever they had no food in their mouths though time wore on and they had to make their way to their potions lesson, lest they be late and get punished for tardiness.

Suddenly Errol, the Weasley family owl flew in and crashed into Goyle's bowl of soup, sending hot broth all over the students seated within a six foot radius of the crash zone. It fluttered back up and hooted once, hopping over to Ron and depositing a letter on his plate before flying off amidst the cursing of many a Slytherin and the laughter of the rest of the tables, the Slitherins looking with annoyance at Ron, most of them now had to go to their dormitory and get changed, since they did not yet know the spells required to fix the mess.

Ron looked at the receding form of the owl and then back at the letter, his usually great appetite gone. This was a letter from his mother, and he gave silent thanks that it was no howler as it lacked the characteristic red hue of the parchment. He opened it, fingers shaking slightly as he began to read the contents:

"Dear Ronald, even if you are not in Gryffindor your father and I are still proud of you studying at Hogwarts. However, Fred and George told me about the conversation you had with the Sorting Hat and I must say I do not know how to feel about it. Did you really tell the Sorting Hat to not place you on Gryffindor? Why would you do that, Ronald…? Our family has been in Gryffindor for generations, we've belonged to the Lion's house for almost as far back as when Hogwarts was founded. I can't say that I understand why you were placed there, Ron. You don't belong with them; just look at all the dark witches and wizards that came from that house. Your father is facing so much strain at the Ministry and you pull this on him? I love you but sometimes I don't understand you, Ron. Love, Mom.

P.S: I'll knit you a nice green and silver sweater for Yuletide. I know you'll look dashing in it. And I heard that you are friends with Harry! I knew it was good to help him at the station. Maybe I'll knit him a sweater too. Once again, I love you, Ronald."

Ron shook his head before folding the letter and placing it in his pocket. They did not understand his reasoning but that was alright. He meant to change Slytherin, from the inside. And it would be nice to have a sweater with his house's colors on it. Quietly, he joined the rest as they made their way to the dungeons.

It was dark in the classroom, only a few windows were open and even then the majority was covered in thick curtains, plunging the room in a stifling blanket of dark heat. Several cauldrons bubbled near the professors desk and the students chatted amongst themselves. Harry had a parchment and quill at the ready to take notes, Hermione having a similar layout but with a book that Draco had given her. She was writing down the ingredients to an odd potion called 'Wolfsbane,' though Harry had no clue what she wanted to kill wolves for. He looked around the classroom, seeing some faces that he recognized from the Hogwarts Express.

Over there in the Gryffindor table was Longbottom who seemed rather terrified of the oppressive environment. Luna… the odd Ravenclaw of the bunch who was wearing some very strange glasses that dwarfed her head and slipped constantly over her nose. The rest were more students from Gryffindor and Slytherin with a few more Ravenclaws, not surprisingly divided evenly down the middle of the large room they shared, Slytherins on one side and the rest of the students in the other. Harry spotted some upset looking Slytherins, and he realized he was looking at Draco's former associates, Crabbe and Goyle. They were staring at him off the corner of their eyes, thinking he would not notice. Harry was impressed with the fact that they believed they were succeeding. It seemed that Draco had joined Harry, Hermione and Ron in order to get away from those dullards, not that Harry could blame him. One of them, Crabbe it seemed, scrunched up a piece of paper he had been hastily scribbling on and attempted to throw it at where Harry and the rest sat. Just as the ball flew through the air, the door to the classroom slammed open and Snape stalked in before pausing, noticing the parchment ball that flew in a graceful arch and plunged directly into the contents of one of the cauldrons. It plopped in, splashing boiling liquid over the stone floor that wriggled around before cooling down in an inert state.

"Mr… Crabbe." Slowly said Snape, who had a vein throbbing on his forehead, framed by the curtains of black hair that hung at the sides of his face. Harry sat there, eyes wide open and not believing the sheer stupidity that had required Crabbe to reach the decision of doing that. Draco as well seemed relieved to have gotten rid of the imbecile; Hermione had only noticed the throw's result, having been writing several questions she intended to ask the Professor and was wondering what had happened. Crabbe swallowed noisily and watched as Professor Snape crossed his arms over his chest, slowly and methodically walking to the ruined potion, the cauldron's contents bubbling and spewing some rancid vapors. With a wave of his wand, the fires died and the cauldron cooled down slowly. Professor Snape stood there, as still as a stone before turning around. "All of you should thank Mr. Crabbe for providing an escape goat for today's… object… lesson." The students murmured amongst themselves and Crabbe looked terrified at the cooling cauldron.

"Professor." Said Hermione, lifting her hand. Snape continued staring at Crabbe for a few more seconds before slowly turning to her. "Miss Granger?" He said slowly, looking at her with extraordinary calmness. The potion that Crabbe had ruined was none other than the extraordinarily tricky to make and expensive to produce 'Draught of Painlessness.' It is a potion used by many of the nurses and doctors that worked at Saint Mungo's Hospital, which causes the nerves to shut down and remain completely dormant to any sort of painful stimulus. Mess up the recipe or the brewing itself, and it will have devastating results. Hermioned lowered her hand and pointed at the ruined potion. "I er, I took the liberty of observing the potions before the class started, sir. That is the Drought of Painlessness?" She asked to which Snape nodded slowly. "Correct. Ten points to Slytherin for distinguishing a rather complex potion to make. So Miss Granger please, tell the class what happens when the brewing of this potion is… interfered with." Hermione nodded and took a calming breath. "The Drought of Painlessness is a potion used in most healing endeavors but it is so difficult to make correctly that it is only brewed under the direst of surgeries. Interfering with the brewing in anyway other than the recipes specified instructions causes it to lose any positive effect and particularly if someone… drops a piece of parchment in…" She stopped though Snape waved a hand for her to continue. "It becomes the Essence of Pain…" Hermione finished.

"Another ten points to Slytherin, for a correct answer and clever deduction." Snape said, Harry and Draco congratulating Hermione while Ron grinned at her. "Indeed, the potion you see now is no longer the Drought of Painlessness but rather the Essence of Pain. I had intended to demonstrate its effects on a more… positive note but no potion should ever be wasted." He snapped a finger and pointed at Crabbe. "Bring me… your owl, Mr. Crabbe." The class went deadly silent then. "For your stupidity and brainlessness, I would much rather demonstrate its effects on you, directly. However, as most people find using students as test subjects to be… distasteful, I will merely show you the results of your… actions, when applied to your bird. Bring it. To me. Now."

Crabbe shakily stood, grabbing the cage that contained his bird and slowly making his way to the towering and infuriated professor. Neville looked on and raised a hand. "P-professor?" He asked and Snape sighed before turning to the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw side. "What is it, Longbottom?" He snapped and stalked to the table. Neville shrunk beneath the angry house-master. "S-sir… I'd rather you didn't torture the bird. Sir." He said it softly but Snape heard him. "All things have… consequences, Longbottom. Thus it is my duty as an educator… to instruct my students to think, before they act. Or…" At this he turned to Crabbe. "In the absence of such a prodigious ability as… thinking, then to bear their guilt." He looked at the minute owl within Crabbe's cage and then back at Crabbe. "Sit back down, Mr. Crabbe." He said. Crabbe nodded hastily and began walking towards his table though Snape told him to stop again. "Leave your owl on my desk. Did you think that the… punishment, would not be forthcoming?" He asked slowly, walking ponderously back to the front of the room, the bird chirping softly before the professor threw a cover over it. Snape grabbed a small stopper and filled it with a minute amount of the ruined potion, lips pursed as he placed a metallic top over the opening. He held it up for the entire class to see. "Essence of Pain, everyone. This amount would probably cause some… discomfort on a grown man but I'd hate to be the owl to ingest it." He tipped it to the side, pretending to pour it down an unsuspecting throat. "The pain, I imagine… must be, exquisite…" He placed the vial on his desk and crossed his arms once more before his chest. "Now then… Should anyone of you wish for the owl to remain safe and painless, you need only make the antidote to this poison. Whoever manages it would earn their house twenty-five points and would find themselves surprisingly devoid of any… extra-work I may assign for the remainder of the term." At this the room went abuzz with the excited chatter. No homework? How hard could this antidote be to make, if they could be free of homework.

Snape gave a languid smile before turning to the rest of the cauldrons, emptying the cold one with a wave of his wand. "Now then, who can tell me where to find the correct amount of skin from a boomslang in order to make the potion of Living Death?" At this Hermione and several others raised their hands. "Miss Granger?" She cleared her throat and took a breath. "The boomslang is a snake found in the regions of the sub-Saharan desert, within the continent of Africa. Though not a magical creature, its body parts all have different uses." Snape nodded slowly. "Five more points to Slytherin." He said before asking another question. "Where would I find a… bezoar?" He asked. More hands went up and he pointed at one of the Ravenclaws. "Miss Dean?" The girl nodded. "Inside the stomach of a platypus, sir." With a sigh, Snape shook his head. "Within the stomach of a platypus is found the polyp's needed to make Wakeless Sleep or maybe your own knowledge in potions." Some of the Slytherins chuckled snidely and Hermione lifted her hand. "Professor, a bezoar is found within the stomach of a two headed mountain goat. It is a stone that absorbs all poisons ingested but has only one use."

"Right again, Miss Granger. Truly you are a credit to your house." Snape commented. "Five more points to Slytherin and five points from Ravenclaw." At this one of the Gryffindors stood up, a boy called Dean Thomas. "That's not fair, she's the only nerd here!" Hermione felt herself tense up. "I'm not a nerd…" She muttered under her breath. Snape cocked his head and waved away the comment. "Mr. Thomas if you wish to help Gryffindor win the house cup from Slytherin I suggest you treat the other houses with… respect. Twenty five points from Gryffindor and detention for you. Maybe some time spent in the library, rewriting potion's treatises will help you appreciate the subtle arts of potion making, which Miss Granger seems to beat all of you at." The Gryffindors muttered amongst themselves and the Ravenclaws looked with greed to Hermione, wishing that she was in their house. Not for the last time, either.

The class went on, the professor asking questions, awarding points for the correct answers and taking them away for the incorrect ones. Eventually the lessons ended with them all receiving as an assignment to write a paper on the properties of murlock spittle and its uses in the medical field. They all left, though Hermione stayed behind to ask Snape some more questions on the subject of potions, which fascinated her. The professor was more than content with giving her as many answers as she wanted as he recognized in her a kindred spirit. The room was empty and Snape sat at his desk, Hermione reading from her sheet of parchment and writing down notes as he gave her concise and simple answers.

"Miss Granger, I believe that you would do well with a visit to the library. Perhaps the sections on potions making and some treatises on say… alchemy?" Hermioned nodded, writing down the instructions. "I suggest you look at Nicholas Flamel in order to fully graps the… concept, of alchemy." He said, writing on some parchment, his quill scratching at the paper before he blew on it to dry the ink and handed it to her. "Take this and show it Miss Pince, the librarian. It will get you access to the Forbidden Section, where most of Flammel's writing is located." Hermione nodded and took the note. "Thank you for this, professor. Thank you very much." She then made her way to the great hall to eat with her friends and attend the next classes. Snape sighed and rubbed his eyes. There was something about the Granger girl when he had mentioned the Forbidden Section, the way her eyes had lit up at the idea of forbidden knowledge. He shook his head. Perhaps he was seeing things.

The rest of the day went on smoothly and without any nasty incidents, save for when Seamus Finnigan had accidentally caused the feather he was supposed to levitate to combust in a loud explosion, though that had been a more humorous note to the evening. Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron made their way to the great hall where they had some dinner and made their way to their dormitories, changing into their night clothes and meeting in the common room, on the couches beside the windows that looked into the lake. Hermione sat on the carpeted floor, scanning through a book that she had taken out of the Forbidden Section earlier that day, the book Draco had given her laying beneath it. She was absolutely fascinated with the subjects and was nearly memorizing the recipes for many, many potions though she still wrote them down in a little note-book she had purchased from the librarian. Harry was practicing the spell they had learned from professor Flitwick and using just about any item to practice on, now using Ron's quill and shakily lifting it up and down. Ron, much to his own surprise, was also reading. But this was an old history book that dealt with the wizards and witches of ancient times. He was fascinated by the information within it, as he was now learning about the fact that sorcerer's of ancient times used to have powers granted to them by actual gods. Or at least, they seemed like gods to the people of the time. This could be a way to prove to everyone that the Weasley's were not the simple family everyone believed them to be. Perhaps he could gain some of these powers and show everyone that his family was also a powerful one.

Draco however, was busy on another matter. Crabbe had to come to him when he had been alone in his dorm room and had begged for help with concocting the antidote to the poison he had accidentally created. Draco knew though that it had nothing to do with his owl and more with the tempting prize of no schoolwork to be done. He sighed to himself and sat beside Hermione. "Granger, I have a question for you." She looked up, absentmindedly focusing on Draco's face and nodding. "That antidote that Professor Snape talked about… How hard is it to make?" Hermione shrugged, placing her notebook within the large treatise and shutting it. "I'd have to see the actual recipe and instructions but I think it's going to be a hard potion to make. Snape wouldn't offer a chance to get rid of homework if it was easy." This made sense to Draco and he thanked her before reclining on the remaining empty couch, letting her continue with her reading. The common room was quiet, the burning logs popping softly as they were consumed.

Ron finished reading his book, mind swimming with the knowledge he now had. In ancient times, magical individuals gained powers from beings in other realms. He had always felt somewhat powerless, compared to his older brothers who knew more about magic than he did. The only thing he beat them all at was wizard's chess and even then it was because he barely kept two steps ahead of them when he played against his siblings. Ron thought on the names he had learned from the book, of wizards like Zeus and Hades who hailed from ancient Greece and had become so powerful they lived for hundreds of years, never aging and worshipped as gods. Ron liked the sound of that though he would be happy with just being liked for who he was. He looked at the back of the book where generally the authors wrote acknowledgements and gave credit to their sources. "Hermione, could you pass me a parchment?" He asked her, grabbing the quill which Harry had successfully managed to levitate without incident. She did so, the paper rustling as it fluttered in her hand. Ron took it and laid it on the smooth back of the table beside his couch, writing down the titles of the writings that sounded the most interesting. Particularly, a wizard named Aschlepus, who had a book titled 'Ancient Rituals and their Uses.'

Harry exhaled loudly, looking around for another item to levitate. He had slowly gotten a greater control over the spell and he wanted to continue practicing it. Noticing the book beneath the treatise that Hermione was reading, he reached over and grabbed it, Hermione barely registering the temporary theft as she turned yet another page, drinking in the knowledge bound within the ancient book she held. Nicholas Flamel was an extraordinary wizard and the fact that he had lived for over five hundred years thanks to his greatest discovery was astounding to her. She envied his achievements, writing down her thoughts on the subject in her little notebook. Harry set the smaller book on the carpeting and pointed at it with his wand. Just like how professor Flitwick had instructed, he swished and then flicked it at the same time he said, 'Wingardium Leviosa.' The book rose in the air before shaking and dropping back down. Harry looked at it as it fell with a dull thump, then switched to his wand. It seemed that much like him, his wand had to grow in strength and power. A quill could be easily lifted by both Harry and his wand, but the book was considerably heavier when compared to the long feather that composed Ron's writing quill. He supposed then that much like going to the gym to become stronger, one had to train their wand to do the same, practicing the same spells until they felt like routine and were easy to perform. Thus, he pointed the wand at the book and repeated the enchantment.

Draco had been thinking on what the Granger girl had told him. Perhaps he could find the recipe and brew it in order to avoid any baggage of studies from the potions class. He was adept at brewing them but found the work somewhat tedious. He watched as Harry lifted the book up and down, mildly entertained by the display. On went the time and the rest of Slytherin house went to their dormitories, soon followed by the four friends. On went the days, lessons filling the busy schedules of the first years. They spent a few weeks learning the basics of flying with broom under Madame Hooch's tutelage, studying the subtleties of proper cauldron cleaning in potions thanks to the majority of them burning their brews and causing Snape to include the lesson in his teaching plan so that they could do it themselves without requiring his help at every moment. The only one who seemed to never burn a potion was Hermione and that earned her many points for Slytherin. Ron was more mediocre on the subject and found it difficult to concentrate on his lessons, reason being that his mother had found out from the twins that he had been sorted into Slytherin. However, they had not failed to mention his request to the Sorting Hat and that had caused some tension to arise in the family.

The weather grew cold and grey which marked the beginning of the fall. The four sat at the Slytherin table, chatting softly. Hermione had sent an owl to her parents telling them about all that she was learning and the real friends she had made. She was waiting on their reply and hoped that the owl she had sent had not gotten lost. It had cost her a shilling, though thanks to the bet she had made of Harry joining Slytherin there was no fear of running out of funds for the moment. Thus for the last several weeks she had waited patiently for her parents' reply to arrive. She had thought that Ron's letter was actually for her but the owl was different and she doubted her parents had purchased an own of their own with which to send letter to her. It was Hallows Eve'n and they hadn't sent a response yet, though Hermione was not worried. Maybe they had gone on a trip to France and the owl had yet to catch up with them. It was plausible, they usually left the dreary fall weather of London for a few days in which to enjoy the warmth of the sun in Paris. Thus, she was not worried. Hermione was sure she'd get a letter soon enough.

Harry had no correspondence as the Durlsey's didn't want to talk to him, or hear about him. In all fairness, he felt the same about them though he got pangs of envy whenever his fellow students got letters from their parents. Hedwig flew in, landing gracefully on the table top with that day's edition of the Daily Prophet. He grabbed it and undid the twin that kept the paper in a roll, extending it on the table and leaning to grab a bite of his toast when the front page caught his attention. It was the entrance to Gringotts, then the image shifted to several goblins working on the door to vault 713. He knew he had seen it before and as Hagrid made his way to the teacher's table, he remembered. "Guys look at this." He said to his friends, all four of them leaning now to look at the paper. "What is it?" Asked Draco with curiosity, Ron and Hermione reading the article and looking at each other. "Gringotts was robbed!" Said Ron and Draco shook his head. That was impossible. "No one can steal from Gringotts, no way!" He replied, forgetting his bagel and leaning over to read the article as well.

Harry looked at his friends. "You don't understand, the vault was empty when it was robbed. It had to be. Hagrid and I went to it when we visited the bank to grab my money and he took a little parcel from inside it." Harry then remembered that Hagrid had told him to not tell anyone about that, but if the vault had been robbed it meant that someone knew what was inside. The three were not looking attentively at Harry. "Well I don't know what was inside! It looked like a little package, like a stone or something." He said, flustered, as if they expected him to know. They looked at each other. Something was afoot, and it seemed that Hogwarts was in the middle of it.

Later that day, once they had finished their lessons with Professor McGonagall, the four students made their way to Hagrids cabin, near the Forbidden Forest. As they walked and chatted, Ron could not help but think about how there were so many things in Hogwarts that happened to be forbidden. He had tried to enter the Forbidden section of the library more than once but each time he tried; Ms. Pince refused to let him into the tall and foreboding area without a teacher's written note of permission. If only there was a way to make oneself to go unseen. Maybe blending in with his surroundings or becoming invisible. He had heard of invisibility cloaks but it was all too likely that the enchantment would be prohibitively difficult and expensive to craft. However, Ron had been told by one of his brothers that there existed a spell to cause oneself to become invisible, though the exact words of it and how to cast it he could not recall. The group saw Hagrid exiting the castle and they quickly rushed to meet him. He saw them coming to him and waved, smiling genially as he did so. He had been in the castle on official business but he was glad to see Harry.

"Hagrid, Hagrid we have a question!" Called Harry when they finally reached the towering half-giant, somewhat out of breath as they had seen him when they were half way to his house; of course, they had ran to him. Hagrid looked at Harry with curiosity, wondering what it could be that he wanted to know. "Well what is it, Harry? I don't have all day." He chuckled, hefting a bucket in one hand as the contents slopped around noisily. Draco took a breath, as the rest were still getting their back. "Hagrid, what was in vault 713?" He asked, surprised at the startled expression that got from the groundskeeper. He handed Hagrid the copy of the Daily Prophet which Hagrid took, depositing the bucket on the ground and reading through the front page. "Oh dear…" He said softly. "O-oh dear…"

Harry looked at Hagrid, expecting something more. "Oh dear" what? Hagrid what was in that vault?" The half-giant took a deep breath and folded the paper in half, tucking in underneath his arm, far from the reach of the four Slytherins. "I do not know, kids. And if I did, I still wouldn't say. This is grownup business, between Dumbledore and Nich-" Hagrid almost finished before he snapped his mouth shut. "I'm not going to say, I am NOT going to say… I shouldn't have said that…" He repeated like a mantra, picking up the bucket and walking off, the ground shaking at his speed and mass. They looked at one another, shrugging and exchanging looks of confusion. "Who is Nich?" Asked Harry, though Draco, Hermione and Ron looked as confused as he felt. Something was most definitely up and it seemed that Hogwarts would be where it played out. Ron's stomach gurgled and he smiled embarrassed. "Blimey… I'm starving…" Thus they headed to the Great Hall where luncheon was just beginning to be served. They had potions once more after that and then it was the Halloween feast, which the four greatly looked forward to. There had been rumors of a surprise during the feast and it sounded like some wholesome fun to relieve their stress of studies.

They ate and went on to the potions lesson, which that week had been taking place in the school's greenhouses. Pomona Sprout and Professor Snape had decided to do a series of joint teaching sessions. Professor Sprout claimed that it was so that the children interested in taking Herbology the next year could become acquainted with the environs of the green houses, which were filled with magical and oft times, dangerous plants. Professor Snape was there if the same applied to students that wished to study Potions the next year, on a more advanced level, however the knowledge he imparted was of the uses that the plants and their fruits had for making magical brews.

Professor Snape stood at the head of the garden-table, particularly non-enthused by the fact that the potted Devil's Whit, so called for its extraordinarily sharp thorns, was trying to tie his left hand to the nearby tables supporting leg. Moving slowly, he pressed the tip of his wand to the fleshy body of the main vine, which caused it to freeze and for its thorns to recede into its tendrils, allowing the professor to remove his hand without losing a finger. The students were chattering noisily amongst themselves, some poking at seemingly inert plants while the others milled about the Herbarium. One of the students shrieked as the seemingly harmless potted plant she had been prodding suddenly jerked up and began lashing about. Thankfully, Professor Sprout had her wand at the ready and shouted a spell.

"Immobila!" The enchantment shot like an arrow from her wand, a pale blue circle striking the center of the plant and causing it to freeze in place. Now that all the students were paying attention to them both, Pomona decided it was time to start the lesson. "Now then dearies, this week we've looked at Winters Breath and its effects on the human body." One of the students felt queasy and used the table for support. The guinea pig had been unrecognizable when the plant was finished. "And we've learned about the Asphodel Root and the sentient tree from which it comes from. Today… we study the bowtruckel." Said the Professor, holding up in her hand a diminutive green humanlike twig, which was walking over her palm. "They are very cute and extremely durable but don't let the size fool you, students. It is illegal to own these without a permit issued by the Ministry of Magic. The most advanced muggle-locks fail under the cunning fingers of these little guys, and they are a thief's most favored ally. No locked door is safe if you own one of these." She placed it on the table and it reached up for her hand, chirping softly. Chuckling, she picked it up again and held it for the class to see.

Professor Snape held out his own hand and another bowtruckel walked over it. It was his turn to instruct. "They are very crafty beings. Their life spans are short if they remain unclaimed but once they pick a wizard they can live for many years. Of course, the think of us wizards as… moving trees so there is that for them." Some of the students chuckled and Snape gave a forced, half-grin. "Indeed. They are the most adept of pickpockets, and can sometimes steal from an entire room… unnoticed." Said the professor holding up a small bag filled with galleons, the metal clinking within the fabric. Many students muttered, their hands slapping at their pockets. Soon the bustle of voices died down. "Now, no one here has been relieved of any… financial goods, but this bag can count as a prize for the student that can successfully bond with a bowtruckel and get them to steal it from me." The professor made a show of placing the bag within his robes and Miss Sprout began speaking once more. "You all have a little bag before you." And so it was, though some students could swear they had not been there before. "They contain a single bowtruckel which you will converse with and bond with."

One of the students raised her hand and Sprout pointed at her. "Yes, Miss Evreen?" She asked. "Professor Sprout, if these are magical creatures, shouldn't Professor Kettleburn be teaching us about them?" Snape chuckled and hefted his bowtruckel in his hand before snapping it in half. It did not even seem to register the loss of its lower limbs which the professor held in between two fingers before the class, then proceeding to press the two half's together. Just like that, the bowtruckel was whole once more. "These are plants, Miss Evreen. Thus Pomona has so… kindly agreed to let me use them for ingredients in my potions." Another student raised her hand and Snape nodded to her. "Miss Lovegood?" She pointed at the bags before them. "Doesn't using them in potions kill them, professor?" She did not seem upset over the fact but rather she seemed to be simply curious. Professor Sprout cleared her throat as some of the students shook their heads. "An excellent question, my dear. These bowtruckels are old and they will perish soon, as all plants do. You needn't worry about them, they'll be dead before the end of the night and Professor Snape can make good use of them. Many good potions can be made from their leaves and vines. Five points to Ravenclaw, for showing good knowledge on this plant." The students felt somewhat better. "Now, remove them from their bags and bond with them, if you can. It's a complex process so do not feel bad if you do not succeed."

Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron picked their bags and opened them. Within each was curled a small being very much like the ones that the professors held in their hands. They looked at each other and then back at the bowtruckels. Splitting off, all the students meandered through the green houses, finding their own spots within which to 'bond' with the plants, whatever that meant.

Ron walked off with the bag in his pocket, the bowtruckel in his hand as he talked to it. He didn't know what he was supposed to say so he decided to tell it everything. From the beginning and telling it his life story, his plans and what he wanted to do. He sat down on a stool, the wood creaking beneath him as he shifted around and got comfortable. "Well…" The bowtruckel chirped and imitated his positioning, some vines sprouting off it and forming a miniature stool that it sat upon. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley." He said, looking at the sentient plant, spotting twin black spots and realizing that they were its eyes. It chirped back at him for a while and Ron merely sat there, unsure of what to do. Did bowtruckels have a language? Ron had no clue and felt rather lost, so he simply sat there and listened. Eventually, the plant stopped chirping and whistling which Ron correctly took for it having finished telling him its life story. "That's rough, buddy." Ron said, unsure of what else to say. Had they bonded correctly? Had they bonded at all? Ron thought there was one way to test it. "Well, I have a favor to ask of you." The bowtruckel chirped once, and nodded. Ron felt elated now, as he had done it correctly. "There is a tall man, taller than me and all in black. He has a bag filled with metal that I need. Could you get it for me?" He asked.

Later, in the green houses, the students gathered around the tables, almost all holding their bags within which were the bowtruckels that had failed to bond with them. The professors looked on, neither pleased nor upset that the students and bowtruckels had not bonded. Professor Snape stood and crossed his arms. "I cannot say that I am surprised that you did not succeed. It is a… tricky, endeavor that many do not have the patience to undertake… successfully. A pity…" He continued, hand going to his pocket in search of the bag filled with gold. "I was looking forward to… giving, these galleons away." He said, before stopping with his hand in his pocket. The bag was conspicuously gone. "Alas… someone else got to them." He said with a chuckle and a quasi-smile, amidst the muttering of the students who wanted to figure out who. "Twenty-five points to the house of that student." He said before looking out the window. "Now all of you… Get out. It will soon be time for the feast."

The students made their way, jostling and bustling on their path to the Great Hall. Sitting at their tables, Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ron listened to the speech given by their headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The venerable wizard stood behind his podium, addressing several items of business. "Tonight we celebrate Hallows Eve'n, a feast that commemorates the ancient traditions. In old times, wizards were said to commune with the dead in this night, the veil between life and death was at its thinnest everywhere in the world. Now we know better… the old religions were put to rest for a reason." He chuckled before continuing. "Now we celebrate another year in Hogwarts. I feel inclined to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is explicitly off-limits to any and all students who are in the third year or lower. The third floor of the east wing in the castle is off-limits as well. Now I know that you are all adventurous students but refrain from testing the waters here. Hogwarts is a safe place only as long as you follow the rules. But that is enough of business. Let the feast… Commence!" Everyone cheered as the food appeared on the tables and began eating to their hearts delight. Harry and Ron looked about as they ate, curious as to where Hermione had gone. Draco also noticed her absence but they continued eating. She was most likely in the bathrooms, or something of the sort. The ate for a while and suddenly the doors burst open, so loud that everyone present heard the wood smash against the stone walls.

Professor Quirinus Quirrel was running down the middle and straight to the teachers table, bellowing at the top of his lungs. "TROLL!" His voice cracked slightly before he stopped and frantically pointed at the doors. As no troll materialized, the students thought that maybe the strange Defense against the Dark Arts teacher was trying to joke with them. "IN THE DUNGEONS!" He shouted once more, collapsing on the stone steps, Dumbledore hastily making his way to the man as the other teachers walked to the tables of their students. "I… I thought you'd like to know…" He said before fainting. It seemed that the feast, for the moment, was cancelled.

 **Now then… This chapter is finished and I am pleased with how it came out. This project is proving to be a very fun one to undertake and I look forward to retelling the rest of the Harry Potter books in the same manner. Tell your friends if they'd like to read the story. Receiving so many notifications of follows and favorites was truly a new experience and I have to admit I am not likely to get bored of it. So please, don't hesitate to leave reviews and to follow me on my Instagram page .rocks for updates on oncoming chapters and new stories.**


	3. Quidditch!

**This chapter contains a detailed description of death by tree crushing. It is one of the reasons this fic is Dark and rated M for Mature. There will be more deaths coming, all of them described and most even more upsetting that this one, I can assure you. I don't write this to discomfort my readers but to express the reality of what would happen in a Dark AU. This is no place for innocence or pureness of thought. Here there is blood, racism, depression and many topics some might consider to be triggering. Read on at your own risk.**

Harry looked at the teacher's table, the professors frantically moving as they made their ways to their respective houses, calming the students with soothing voices. Minerva McGonagall stood at the head of the Gryffindor table, calling for attention and gesturing with her hands for the students to remain seated. This was a genuine emergency. Snape took a look at the Slytherins, nodding at several of the prefects before exiting through the back door which happened to be close to his spot at the table. That was the tipping point, as it caused the younger kids to panic and begin shouting. Soon, the entire Great Hall was echoing with the shrieks of panicked kids and shouting professors. Albus Dumbledore lightly slapped the unconscious Quirrel before gently lowering him on the floor and turning to the shrieking children. He placed the tip of his wand on his throat and clear his throat before taking a deep breath. "SILENCE!" He bellowed, the magically augmented sound echoing even louder than the combined shouting might of the first and second years. "Now everyone…" He continued without his wand, now that he had their attention. "Remain calm. Prefects, escort your houses to the common rooms while the teachers and I, deal with this issue." His voice resonated even without the aid of magic and the students calmed. All of them, save for the Slytherins who happened to realize that their common room was IN the dungeons.

One of the students raised a hand. "Professor Dumbledore, what of us Slytherins?" He asked before the other tables began to talk amidst themselves. There was no love lost between the houses but the Slytherins were the least liked of the bunch. "Our common room is in the dungeons… with the troll…." Dumbledore raised his hands and the hall grew silent once more. "Your prefects will escort you to your common rooms, worry not. We will have dealt with the problem by the time you arrive at your rooms." At this he turned to the rest of the assembled school. "Now then, prefects?" Students with badges on their chests stood, talking softly to the rest of their houses, all but the Slytherins arising from their tables and marching out of the hall. Harry, Draco and Ron looked at each other. This was not good.

Harry scanned the rest of their table and froze in place, eyes widening with shock. Where was Hermione? He turned to Ron and Draco, frantically waving for their attention. "Guys, I can't find Hermione!" He told them, which caused Ron to pale and for Draco to scan the table to see if he could find her himself. "Where could she be?" Asked Draco as they stood up to follow their house to their common room, their fellow students muttering softly. Harry could almost smell their fear and he swallowed. He too, was afraid.

Meanwhile, Hermione had been in the girls lavatories contained within the dungeons. She gone there almost at the beginning of the feast after one of the Slytherin girls bumped into her and ordered Hermione to move to the side, calling her a filthy mudblood and making a show of brushing her robes. She remembered what Draco and Ron had told her but it still stung, bringing back too many memories of her times at the muggle schools where she had been made fun of for her desire to know. It didn't matter what it was, as long as she could learn it. Computer programming? She knew Java and C++. The sciences? Hermione had memorized the laws of thermodynamics before she had finished third-grade. And through it all, she had been ostracized by the other girls and boys in the schools. Names like 'Nerd, geek, and freak' and many more had been thrown at her by children that merely envied her knowledge and wished to demean her in any way possible. Back in the first potions class she had taken at the beginning of the school term she had delved back into her usual pattern of behaviors. Asking question after question in order to satisfy her thirst for education, answering correctly when Professor Snape tested their knowledge and bringing pride and honor to her house. For a while in that class, she felt happy again. She had real friends, she had a new world to learn from. And then she got called a nerd. She clenched her teeth at the memory, concentrating on anything else. If she delved too deep into the thought, she'd become depressed once more.

Sighing, Hermione sat on one of the toilets, the porcelain covering hard and smooth as she tucked her knees in and hugged her legs to her chest, feeling some tears cloud her vision. Closing her eyes, she let go and cried. It didn't matter that she had genuine friends; the words stung like mental wasps and left reminders within her mind. Her most sacred possession and yet it was so easy to damage it. Words left no bruises, no cuts or bumps for people to see. She sniffled and pressed her head against her knees. Whomever had decided to create the rhyme of 'Sticks and stones my break my bones, but words will never hurt me' had either never suffered the way most children did, or had been the bully out right. She sighed and shivered in the cold. She wanted to be held by her parents, to be loved and to know that her love was also important. She'd send another letter the next day, she decided. That way she could keep a faster correspondence with her parents and not having to wait for them to reply before sending them her thoughts and feelings. Thunder rolled over head and Hermione looked up at the ceiling. It had been a rather clear day earlier but she supposed that during the fall it was easy for storms to develop. She locked the door of her stall, not wanting to be bothered by any girls that decided to use the restroom, if any showed up.

Harry, Ron and Draco walked with the rest of their house though at a slower pace, conversing together and frantically looking about the many passageways of the school. So far, there had been no sight of the troll but no one relaxed because of it. If this was a prank, it was of very poor taste if done by a student and outright ridiculous of done by a professor. However, Quirrel had gained a reputation for being timid, shy and very, very serious. Even the Weasley twins knew not to mess with him, or so it would seem, as they had left him and his classroom alone. On they went for a while, deep in conversation and eventually realizing that they had split off from the main group and gone on their own way. Ron looked past the corners, trying to see if he could find their house-mates but to no avail. Harry and Draco talked some more together before they stopped and pressed themselves against one of the walls. Thunder rolled over head but they knew that the night had been clear of clouds. With wide eyes, they looked at each other and Ron pointed past them, his hand shaking as he looked on the verge of panic induced tears. "H-harry…" He whispered and they looked at where he pointed before they too felt on the verge of panicking. Far off to the distance, stood a troll.

Now, here is a thing about trolls. They are not too bright at the best of times and they can get to be ludicrously tall. They stink outright and they usually carry a club of sorts which they drag about anywhere they go. Those are normal trolls or the common variety as described in the book of Fantastic Beasts and There to Find Them. However, there is an issue. When Quirrel had burst into the Great Hall and shouted that there was a troll at the top of his lungs, they had all assumed that it was the common variety. Tall, strong, relatively easy to deal with. What stood before them however, was a mountain troll and those are no trifling matter. Mountain trolls are twice as tall as their common cousins, twice as strong and disgustingly enough, twice as foul in both odor and appearance. This one seemed to be the leader of its tribe; a tree had been ripped off the ground and served as its new club, the dirt of its roots cascading off with each step the troll took. Thankfully, it had not spotted the three huddling Slytherins as it made its way past their hallway, growling and causing the walls to shake with the thunder of its voice. Once it was gone, the odor hit them and they gagged.

Never had they smelled anything so foul. Draco especially had to fight in order to keep his dinner within his stomach. "T-that's not ordinary troll." Draco said, wiping his mouth where an excess of saliva had formed. "M-my father uses that kind to protect our house from intruders. T-they patrol the y-yard." He said, sitting down shakily. Ron stared at the spot where the troll had exited their vision. "Your father is mad!" He said, swallowing noisily. "What does he think is going to attack your house? A blooming dragon?" Harry knew one thing though. Hermione had no clue that such a being was loose within the castle. "Come on." He said, walking to where the dirt clods of the trees roots had fallen. The air was thick with the body odor of the troll and they felt their eyes water as the acidic environment assaulted their senses. "W-we must f-find Hermione…" Coughed Harry, placing his sleeve over his nose and mouth, his eyes narrowing as he followed the dirt trail. Ron and Draco followed suit, making their way down the halls in search of their friend. If they did not reach her before the troll did, then it would be very, very dangerous.

Draco walked alongside Harry and Ron, thinking as he made his way down the hallway. Why was he doing this? He barely knew the Granger girl and if it meant risking his own skin then how worth it could it be? He had to look after number one. Himself. But how to do it without losing face before Harry Potter? This was the Boy Who Lived, the shining beacon of the Wizarding world. He defeated You-Know-Who. Malfoy had a sense for people and his senses told him that Harry Potter would become one of the most influential wizards in history. Quietly, he hatched a plan. "Potter, Weasley. You go on ahead, I'll find the prefects and get to follow me and help, alright?" The two looked at each other before nodding. "Thanks Malfoy." Said Harry, Ron nodding at the blonde as they parted ways. 'No…' Thought Draco as he grinned to himself. 'Thank you.' Slowly, Draco made his way far from the path that the troll had taken and eventually stopped after taking several twists and turns. He looked around, then back at the path he had taken. "Damn it…" Draco cursed. He was lost.

Harry and Ron were busy following the acrid stench of the troll's large body, keeping it in view as it lumbered on through the hallways, taking turns at random at times stopping and sniffing the air before sneezing and covering the walls with snot, which bubbled and hissed at it struck the stones. They felt as if they were eventually going to go full circle and maybe never reach Hermione but it was best to stay safe and make sure she was alright. After all, it is the Slytherin way to look after one another. On went the troll, Harry and Ron following behind it for a while until at last it reached a set of wooden doors. It kept walking, smashing through them and sending splinters all over the floors. It had reached the girl's lavatories, now all that Harry and Ron could do was hope and pray to whoever was listening that Hermione was not inside the cramped space.

Hermione, was very much within the cramped space. She had been thinking for a while, her face set in a frown as she hatched a plan. If people truly though that her status as a muggleborn defined her ability with magic and sorceries then she would prove them wrong. She knew things. Spells and hexes that did not kill but hurt. She would do to those that belittled her with words the same but with magic. She cleared her throat and sniffled one last time, rubbing at her eyes and unlocking the door of her stall. The sinks gleamed under the magical lights and she turned one on with which to wash her face with. She did not want anyone knowing that they ahd got to her. The water dribbled over her palms and she splashed her face, eyes closing instinctively as the liquid cooled her skin. At the same time it did, the door and its walls smashed inwards, the stench of something incredibly rotten wafting over her. She opened her eyes quickly and turned to the source of the commotion. She could see little, as there was water in her eyes but she knew that something was wrong. She could see a towering form ahead of her and heard someone shouting.

Harry and Ron both ran as the troll entered the restroom, its massive body shambling forwards at her. So, she was inside the bathrooms. Now the problem as getting her out. "Hermione, duck!" They shouted at her and she dove for the stall she had just exited, the troll gripping the tree in its hands and swinging over the air, smashing the tiles on the ceiling and crashing against the floor with a ground shaking thud, the marble cracking beneath the force of the strike. Hermione shrieked as the cacophony overwhelmed her ears, the troll roaring as it tried to beat the sounds of children shouting. It groaned, farting loudly and grunting as it ripped the tree from the floor, cement raining from the dirt that clogged the roots and pieces of marble pattering off of it.

"Hey! Donut!" Shouted Harry, which admittedly was not the greatest of insults but it did the trick. Something was shouting behind the troll and a very slow sense of self-preservation instructed it that it would be a good idea to turn around just then. Ron grabbed a piece of marble that had shattered with the impact and threw it at the troll, hitting it on the head and merely eliciting an annoyed growl from it as it stood tall and gazed at the students. "Oh son of a bi-" Ron began to say before he and Harry dove to opposite ends, the trunk that the troll hefted whistling through the air and smashing against the floor once more, the troll itself roaring a challenge that echoed through the large hallways of the dungeons and resonated throughout the entire castle, causing students of all ages to flinch at the same time. Ron stood back up and grabbed a beam of wood, throwing it like a makeshift spear at the troll. It flew true though it merely cracked against the tough leathery hide of the monster. However, it was distracted by Harry, who had thought it a good idea to jump on the foul creatures back and hit it with a stone. The troll turned around, surprised at the fact that despite something was striking its head, it could not see anything that could be causing the hits. Perhaps it was coming from the sky? It thought slowly and looking up, dumb face looking upwards and seeing Harry's head. Harry found himself staring at the troll's upside down face, the sight making him slow down for half a second.

"Oh crap," he said as the troll gripped his leg and pulled him off its shoulders. Harry felt lost. First he had been on the beast then he was hanging upside down. However he had no chance to keep thinking as he could see that the troll was hefting its large tree up in the air. What was it trying to… Oh. Harry doubled over, lifting up his body as the tree flew barely an inch away from his head with a whistle, the force causing the troll to stumble and twist around while following the momentum of the large staff. It grunted, snorted and paused. Hefting up Harry once more, it tried again. Meanwhile, Hermione found herself covered in dust and pieces of marble, some scratches on her skin that bled slightly where the shards had struck her with force. She got on all fours, crawling over the debris and making her way stealthily to the spot where the doors had formerly been. However, before her plant could come to fruition she dropped to the floor, flat on her belly as Ron had shouted at her to duck again, the tree flying over her not a second after his warning. Harry kept dodging the strikes but he was getting slower, his abdomen not used to doing that version of Extreme Sit-Ups. He made a vow then to do more sports, as this was ludicrous. Once more the log whistled past and the troll tumbled after it, spinning around before settling back on its two large and very misshapen feet.

Ron was on the verge of hysterics. Nothing there was helping him defeat the monster and his two friends were in grave danger. Then he felt stupid, digging in his pocket and pulling out his wand. "Hermione, what do I do!" He asked her, waving his wand for emphasis. She looked at him and then ducked once more when the tree flew over her. "Use the levitation spell!" She shouted and Ron nodded. "Wait, which spell is that!?" He shouted over the roaring of the troll and Harry took a deep breath. "Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said at the top of his lungs before dodging the trunk of the tree. That one had come close to taking his head off, which was a sobering thought. Ron looked lost and Hermione crawled to one of the walls. "Swish and flick, Ron! Like professor Flitwick said!" She shouted before screaming as the tree had smashed nary a foot away from her, sending the porcelain of the bathroom sinks flying in every direction, one of the shards cutting her cheek from which she began to bleed. Underestanding, Ron stabilized himself and waited for the troll to raise once more its cudgel. When it did, Ron was ready, casting the spell and immediately groaning under the strain of holding up a tree on his own. "D-damn…" He said, gripping his wand, sweat forming beads over his forehead and face. It was extremely heavy. The troll roared once more and swung at Harry but it did not notice the fact that it was missing its tree, which now floated over its head. It dropped Harry, who crawled back to Ron's side and lay there, panting. Ron looked at his friend, face growing red with concentration. He looked at the troll who was now looking up at the floating wood, head cocked to the side with confusion. It was a dumb beast but even it knew that trees did not fly. Ron thought of dropping the log on the monsters head and knocking it unconscious but he then saw Hermione who was bleeding and seemed to be badly hurt, apparently one of the pipes had struck her arm and broken a bone. Time seemed to slow, blood roared in Ron's ears and he could hear nothing save his own heartbeat, which thundered like twin drums around his head.

"Kill it…" Said a chorus of soft and almost silent voices. Ron looked at the troll, unmoving as it stared at its cudgel. "It will kill you and your friends… Ronald Weasley… You must be stronger than it… It does not think… It only acts. You… you are better than it… it is beneath you… It has dared to strike you…" The voices echoed over each other, some a bass so deep that they seemed to come from the bottomless pits of the oceans. Others so high and soft that they seemed to have wings with which to fly. Ron shook his head slowly. What was happening? He wondered to himself. Then, Ron took another look at Hermione, her eyes closed and face scrunched in pain as she held her broken arm, a cut on her cheek sending blood down her neck and tears streaming from her eyes. Whatever doubts Ron had, they quickly dissipated as a red fog fell over his vision. Instead of releasing the spell, he slammed the wand down and smashed the log into the trolls head. Where some stones thrown by Ron had failed earlier, the force that was exerted on the log was far greater and more destructive. For starters, the troll's skull caved in, its blood and brain matter spewing out under pressure as the log collapsed the head into its large body, ripping into it and destroying its insides. It shuddered, hands slowly reaching up before falling down at its sides and slamming forwards in a heap, the wood of the tree sticking out like an obscenely long neck. Blood trickled out of the open wound with each dying heartbeat of the troll, soon coating the floor near the body in a sickly green.

Hermione crawled over to Ron's side and sat, crying to herself due to the pain of her arm and the shock of almost dying. Ron stood there, feeling queasy. Had he really just done that? Then, the smell hit them three. If trolls smelled bad in the outside, the mountain trolls were even more foul. Now the insides are indescribable as the odor essentially shuts down the human nose and sends the brain a simple message. Go throw up. "Guy's I um…" Said Hermione who shakily stood up and groaned. "I think uh…" She closed her mouth and held up a finger, shakily making her way to one of the toilets and retching loudly, the contents of her stomach splattering into the porcelain bowl. Harry had no such luck as he was too tired to make his way to the remaining toilet. All he could do was lean to the side and vomit there, his bile mixing with the blood of the troll before he closed his eyes and resorted to breathing through his mouth. Ron stood there, shaking. The urge to also vomit was strong but not as strong as his bewilderement. Where had that urge come from? He felt lost at sea with merely a life-saver as his means of support. He blinked once, numbly placing his wand within his pocket and making his way to the troll in a daze. When he reached the spot of the wound, he could not hold it in anymore and he doubled over, clutching his belly as he sprayed his dinner over the wall, spitting and wiping his mouth before drinking some water from the only functioning sink that remained from the disaster that had become the bathroom.

Just then, Draco and the prefects showed up, accompanied by Professor Snape, McGonagall, Quirrel and Flitwick. Minerva took the scene in and placed a hand on her chest. "Oh dear…" She shakily breathed, covering her nose as to keep at bay the smell of troll blood and vomit. "Come now, children." She said, extending her arms and guiding Ron to Snape's side, helping Harry up and clicking her tongue at the broken bones in Hermione's arm. "What on Earth where you two thinking!" She said to them, causing them to flinch. Hermione stood and hung her head. "It was my fault, Professor. I'd read in some books that troll's have many valuable items for potion making… I wanted to see if I could take some without it noticing as I'd read also that they are very dumb and slow. Harry and Ron showed up just in time." She sobbed and clutched her arm to her chest.

Professor McGonagall shook her head, looking with concern in her eyes though a disapproving frown on her face. "Very well Miss Granger… I thank you for your honesty however… I must deduct fifty points from Slytherin. For each of you!" She snapped. "For stupidity and failure to think things through." Snape cleared his throat. "However, I must give twenty-five points to… each of them as well. They did just… provide me with some very… valuable, ingredients…" Minerva looked aghast at the potions professor. "Severus!" She replied, choking on her words. "They could have died!" She protested but the potions teacher merely shrugged. "They took a risk and it paid off. Is that not how Gryffindor believes that problems should be solved?" He asked, arching a single eyebrow as Draco chuckled.

"Now Potter, Granger and Weasley… to the infirmary. Professor McGonagall will take you there while I… deal, with this." He said, nodding at the elderly woman who smiled at them and sighed. "One of these days I will have a heart attack." She muttered to herself as they walked off. Only Harry had noticed this but professor Snape had been bleeding from one leg, some blood trickling in drops to the floor where his robes ended. He found it most… curious. Quirrel nodded at Snape and at the students. "V-v-v-v-very b-b-brave of y-y-you, my young f-f-f-f-f-friends. I d-d-do not t-t-t-think that any other s-s-s-students could have accomplished the s-s-s-same as you h-h-h-have…" He said at their receding forms and then smiling at Snape who merely looked at him with a neutral frown of displeasure. "Quirrel… take Draco back to the Slythering common room… I'm… sure, you know the way… there."

Once in the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey fussed over Hermione's broken arm, giving them a stern dressing down on the stupidity that they had displayed with such a stunt. However, they were much too tired to pay any active attention as the entire experience had drained them of any energy they might have, but had also bonded them closer as friends. Hermione now genuinely trusted Harry and Ron, and Harry knew that in a pinch his friends would work to solve any problem. Ron was thinking as well, but of different matters. He worried, as a matter of fact. He was worried that the voices he had heard had spoken to him because he was a Slytherin. The things they has whispered had seemed rather designed for him. He had felt angry at the troll for almost killing Hermione but the troll could not help it. It was a dumb brute, a monster that did not think… He realized he had just been thinking like the voices. Ron lay on the gurney and closed his eyes, not going to sleep but merely receding into himself and thinking.

Madame Pomfrey finished mending Hermione's arm, casting a spell on the bones so that they might knit together and bandaged her arm after disinfecting it with a quick spray of antiseptic from her wand. Hermione thanked her numbly and lay on the bed, shivering despite the heat of proffered by the thick blankets and the warm night clothes the nurse had given her. She held out her left hand, staring at it as her fingers uncurled from a fist. On her palm lay some dried skin and a few hairs she had ripped from the troll scant seconds before the professors showed up. The possibilities with these ingredients were almost limitless but the amount she had limited her options to one potion alone. She had to choose wisely, as the wrong combination might end up causing a death, which to her was a sobering thought. She did not want to kill anyone… she just wanted to be respected for her abilities, not belittled for her parentage. She placed the items within the pocket of her robe which lay folded on a nearby chair and lay on her side, closing her eyes before drifting off to sleep.

Harry had been luckier than Hermione, as he had a sprained ankle from where the troll had held him and minor cuts. His belly hurt but that was merely because of the strain exerted on his muscles due to the troll's repeated attempts of killing him. Harry traced his scar with a finger, the lightning bolt rough against his skin. He had survived once and just now he had survived again… He shook his head and set his glasses on the night stand beside him, blowing out the candle that Madame Pomfrey had left by his side and plunging the infirmary in darkness.

Hours passed and when Ron was satisfied that the soft snoring that came from Harry and Hermione's bed was genuine, he swung his legs over the side and dropped to the floor in a crouch, grabbing his robes and picking up a bag in his pockets. The bowtruckel chirped once and Ron placed a finger over his lips. "Shh… Don't wake anyone up…" He whispered and the bowtruckle nodded, extending a vine over where its mouth would be if it had one. Ron slowly peeled back the curtains of his makeshift hospital room and looked around. He did not see anyone but that did not mean that there was no reason to be stealthy. Fred and George had told Ron that prefects patrolled the hallways at night and that would deduct points from any student stupid enough to let themselves get caught. Ron had no intention of costing Slytherin more points than he already had so he made up his mind to go silently to the library. He had a feeling that Miss Pince would not be awake and capable of refusing him entrance into the Forbidden Section and if she was… well, he would burn that bridge when he got to it.

Ron was grateful that the majority of the halls within Hogwarts were covered in carpeting, the thick fabric muffling his already somewhat stealthy footsteps. Ron and his bowtruckel weaved around prefects who had their wands out with light emanating from them. He made a mental note to learn that spell as it might come in handy at some point. There was a moment when Ron almost got caught and that was when he almost slammed straight into Percy, his older brother. Ron had been looking to the side and had not been paying much attention but that error almost cost him his trip to the library. Thankfully, Ron kept his cool and managed to hide behind a suit of armor before Percy could spot him, walking on and without noticing anything amiss. Breathing shakily, Ron wiped his forehead, some sweat having formed there due to stress and made his way to the library. Once he reached it, he looked at both sides of the hallway and opened the doors, quickly entering and shutting them behind him, making sure to do it with as much silence as was possible. He bit his lip as a light flickered through some of the bookshelves. There were prefects there as well…

Pressing his body against the backs of the book, he looked through the spaces and sighed with relief. It was just one prefect, so it was going to be easy. Ron looked about and up at the ceiling, then to the second story of the library which circled around the walls and happened to connect to the grated ceiling that covered the Forbidden Section. He looked at the light, feeling with his hands to make sure he did not trip over anything until he reached the stairs and quickly ran up them, his bare feet padding softly on the cushioned steps until he reached the second story and stopped, breathing deep and a little louder to catch his breath. He was farther away from the prefect so it was perfectly safe to lower his stealth even for just a moment. Ron remained crouched and made his way around the floor, keeping the hovering light of the spell in sight so he could know if he was safe or not. He did so slowly and thus it took him a few minutes of slow crawling when if he had been able to run, he would have reached it in seconds. Eventually however, he arrived at his destination.

Ron looked past the handrails and through the grated iron into the Forbidden Section. He was sure the book he was looking for was there, he just had to find it. He reached with his arm and placed the bowtruckel on the iron, where it clung to with its vines, looking at him forlornly. Ron took a breath and whispered. "I need you to unlock this." He said, pointing at the iron. The bowtruckel merely shrugged, or gave the impression of doing so, and flitted over to a spot where Ron could reach the entrance but only if he dropped down directly on the grating. With a faint click, the trap door was unlocked and Ron extended a hand, which the bowtruckel gripped and used to pull itself to him. "Thanks." Ron whispered and placed the creature inside the bag which he gently slid back into one of his pockets. "Okay…" He said, rubbing his hands and taking a deep and calming breath.

This was the hard part, as he had to somehow make his way onto the top of the iron, hope said iron did not collapse underneath his weight and slide into the Forbidden Section through a trap door that was only big enough to allow him to squeeze through. If he was a year older, this would be a futile plan as his body would be too big to fit through. Ron looked at the rest of the library and froze. Where had the light gone? He looked around and spotted it moving up the stairs. He felt his heart pick up as he realized that the prefect was doing his rounds on the top of the library as well, which meant that Ron had to jump into the Forbidden Section now or fail. There was no in between.

Ron steeled himself and propped a leg over the handrail. Thankfully it was somewhat dark and he was quiet as well. He hung from the railing by his fingers and once he saw the prefect grow closer he let go. Ron landed in a crouch and oddly enough the iron grating did not even seem to register his weight as it barely even shifted around. He opened the door and quickly slid his legs in, then his waist and just as the prefect was about to see him, he slid in and landed with a dull thud. The air was noticeably colder here and Ron shivered slightly, looking up and realizing he had left the door open. It did not matter; he'd grab the book and be on his way before anyone noticed the trapdoor. He clenched his teeth and shivered again before making his way along, looking at the spines of the book and the wooden shelves which listed the title of the book and the name of the author.

Ron was lucky; he remembered both the name of the author and the title of the book he was looking for. Thus, he went off in search of either the name 'Aschlepus' or the title 'Ancient Rituals and their Uses.' Ron made his way through the section, meandering down the alphabetical order. He had landed near the end of the section or in the Z area and thus he had to make his way up to the front, hoping that eventually he'd reach the book without exposing himself before the doors and their see-through glass. Ron made his way, reading softly the names of authors and books. It seemed that the authors were the ones in alphabetical order so he concentrated on spotting the name amidst all of the obscure names he was reading. Soon, he reached the A section and when he neared the end he stopped. The book was not there. He frantically looked around and upwards, trying to see if the prefect was anywhere near him. No light, so far. That was good.

Ron scanned the shelves. While he was here, he might as well grab a book to read. He would not go empty handed from the library. Ron looked at the shelves once more, walking back to the end of the Forbidden Section. Suddenly he stopped. The whispering was back, soft still but understandable. "Grab it…" the voices said, and Ron looked around. Grab what? "The book… the scroll… the parchment…" They said, repeating it over and over until Ron pressed his hands to his ears and groaned. Just as soon as they had returned, they left and the silence was just as deafening as their cacophony. Ron was shaken. What was happening to him? He glanced around and saw a book titled 'The Ancient Religion and its Gods.' Beneath it was a scroll with no title, simply bearing the name of Bahamen as its author. Lower still was a single sheet of parchment, rolled up and shoved into a tiny whole at the foot of the shelf. It had no credited author, bearing the word Unknown where the name would be, however the title struck Ron to the core; 'Power to change the World.' He hastily pulled it from the whole, also taking the larger scroll and finally grabbing the book, softly cursing at the awkwardness caused by the large items and at the clinking of the chains that kept the rest of the books in place. He took off his jacket and looked at it. It was big enough that the book and the parchment would fit, however the scroll itself would not. He'd have to carry his jacket like a bag and shoulder the scroll, all the while trying to go unnoticed in a castle full of prefects that held no love for his house. He got to work on a solution.

Later, still within the Forbidden Section Ron observed his handiwork, hands on his hips and lips pursed as he looked at it with a critical eye. He had managed to squeeze all three items into the cloth of his jacket, however now it was stretched beyond its capacity and it would burst apart if he was not quick in stashing the items in a secure spot, where no one would find them and he could retrieve them later. Ron shouldered the makeshift bag, moving his shoulders as he adjusted to the weight and slowly made his way to the front entrance of the Forbidden Section. He peeped through the thick glass and saw no one, so he decided the coast was clear. The door itself was unlocked and he quietly managed to open it before closing it behind him. He looked at both sides and ran as if a million spiders were chasing after him, reaching the end of the library and exiting it without a problem. Somehow he had managed to undertake this personal mission successfully, something that he felt rather proud of. Suddenly, Ron heard the prefect from the library speak. "Is anyone there?" He asked and Ron panicked, taking off in a run and not looking back.

Harry woke from his sleep, the night still young and wondering what had caused him to awaken. He grabbed his glasses, putting them on and listening quietly. "Hello?" He asked softly and a rustle from one of the beds caused him to arise. He peeled back the curtain and sighed. "Ron, you scared me." He chuckled as Ron grinned and shrugged. "Sorry Harry… I was getting some air. I couldn't sleep…" Harry nodded and grabbed a chair, sitting on it. "Today was wild…" He mused and Ron snorted. "More than wild, I'd say. I can't wait to hear what the rest of the school says when they hear about it." Harry laughed though Ron looked rather appalled about it. "No way man, why is that funny? They'll think we are freaks or something. We went to fight a troll, essentially." Then Ron chuckled. "McGonagall was miffed too." Harry laughed and nodded. "Did you see her face when she saw the troll?" Ron joined Harry in laughing. It felt good to laugh…

Hermione lay in bed, smiling at the conversation the two were having. She knew they were trying to be quiet so she could sleep but they were boys after all; rowdy to the end. She leaned over and pulled a curtain aside. "Keep it down, we are trying to sleep!" Hermione joked, smiling at them as they moved closer to her. Hermione knew that this was an important thing to do after life or death situations, otherwise if they went about it alone they'd become ill or go crazy. She had read about it in one of the many medical books her mother owned but never had she thought that she'd apply the knowledge in real life. It felt wonderful, and she liked it.

"Honestly, what do you think people are going to say about it?" She wondered once they stopped laughing. Harry and Ron shrugged, not really having an answer. They sat together in silence, enjoying each other's company before Hermione stifled a yawn. "Well… Goodnight guys." She said before closing her curtain with one hand, the other pressed to her body as she hid herself from their view and fell back asleep. Harry followed suit, waving goodnight to Ron and climbing onto his bed, glasses on his nightstand and soon fast asleep. Ron smiled to himself. Perhaps in Slytherin one **did** make real friends. He was sure that Harry and Hermione were friends, at least. Draco had been nice and polite but there was something about him that Ron did not trust. He looked at his bag which he had stashed beneath his bed just as Harry woke up. Looking about to ensure he was truly alone, he entered the curtained off section of his gurney and pulled the book out, holding it with both hands and still struggling to lift it. He realized now that it was extraordinarily heavy and he was surprised and somewhat concerned at the fact that he had managed to run with the book and more on his back. He tried to open it but it was locked with a triple set of locks, each unique in design and appearance. Ron thought of using his bowtruckel and was about to pull it out of its bag when the voices returned, softer this time and less chaotic though they still startled him somewhat.

"Read the writings… Find the knowledge buried within… We have waited for many years, Ronald Weasley… We must go now… We will return… We will…" Just like that, the voices were gone again, as if they were vanishing into the walls, echoing all the while. The sun began to peek at the horizon, marking the end of Hallow's Eve'n and Ron looked at the book he held, shivering. He didn't exactly know what was going to happen but he had a feeling that it would be extraordinary. He hid the items and lay on his bed, closing his eyes and hoping to grab some shut eye before they were woken by Madame Pomfrey. He gripped his sheets and pressed them closer to him, feeling his body grow cold even though he knew it shouldn't. Ron drifted to sleep, growing upset as he relieved the moment where he killed the troll. Powerful yet scary, over and over and over until Pomona Pomfrey made her way to their beds and with a wave of her wand pulled away the curtains, the three sighing, groaning and muttering as they awoke. "Wake up!" She shouted, bringing them some herbal tea with which to reinvigorate them. "Come now Potter, it is time to wake up." Harry groaned and shook his head, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Hermione felt as if a troll had landed on her, she felt so sore all over and Ron… well, he had barely slept a wink so he was lying in bed and vowing to himself that he'd never, ever again pull a stunt like that. Ever.

They dressed into their robes and made their way to the great hall, their fellow students talking loudly and looking at them off the corner of their eyes, pointing and whispering. The three sat down and ate slowly. Ron almost fell asleep into his large cup of chocolate, Harry seemed to be rather intent on his powdered donut and Hermione winced every time she accidentally used her broken arm to grab some of the food items. Draco Malfoy saw them and sat beside them, grinning as he took a bite of his own jelly donut, powdered sugar covering his face as he noisily chewed. "So, saw you three killed a mountain troll!" He said loudly, causing Ron to flinch. "Must have been fun, how'd you do it?" He asked, waiting for an answer. Harry tiredly looked him in the eyes and sighed. "Gymnastics." The reply was so unexpected that Draco could only stare at Potter. "G-gymnastics…" He repeated to which Hermione nodded. "Yes, Malfoy. Gymnastics." Ron, on the other hand, was now snoring gently and completely unaware of the progression of the conversation. "Well then…" Said Malfoy, nodding once. "I hope you are all ready for today's examination." Hermione elbowed Ron, who had snored a little louder and woke with a start. "I'm up! I'm… up…" He took a bite of some toast and fell asleep again, chewing on his bite. Hermione stared in amazement. He was eating while sleeping? That was extraordinary.

Harry however turned to Draco, curiosity in his eyes. "A test?" He asked and Draco nodded before leaning close. "Madame Hooch is going to test our capacity to fly on brooms. We're done with theory lessons and she's moving us on to the practical." Draco sounded excited and Harry forgot his tiredness, feeling the same excitement that Malfoy did. Draco placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and sat on the bench. "I've heard," he continued, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "I've heard, that if she is impressed enough, she can recommend students for a position in their house's Quidditch team." Harry grinned. That was an appealing thought. He had just decided to exercise more often, all that time in the cupboard had not helped him in the slightest. "How'd you figure this out?" Harry asked before taking a bite of some more food. "I have my ways." Draco replied with a confident grin. Off to the side, Harry saw Snape chatting with professor Quirrel, stealing glances at the Slytherin table and frowning everytime he looked at Harry. They continued their breakfast in peace, the owls flying in and depositing letters for the recipients before taking off to the owlery.

Hermione sighed and went to grab some syrup for her waffles before an owl landed before her, a letter in its beak. She smiled and laughed, taking it and holding it as if it where the most precious thing in the world. It was from her parents, she knew she was worrying too much when she thought that they were not replying. Opening it, she pulled out the papers, grinning all the while as she recognized her mother's and her father's handwriting. It read as follows:

"Our most dear Hermione, we are so happy to hear that you have made friends already! Your father worried that you would be lonely in a school full of strangers but I knew you'd hit it off with someone. Harry Potter sounds like a very nice young man from the way you describe him. I had no idea that he was such a famous wizard as well; did he really defeat the Dark Lord as a baby? I find it somewhat farfetched but if you tell me it's true then by it must be. I know you are not one for making up stories so I know you are telling the truth. Your father and I are going to spend some time with your grandmother here in Paris. Ever since grandpa died she has spent more and more time in France; between you and me, it's driving your father mad but I like it, it's so much warmer than in London." Here Hermione could practically hear her mother's laughter as she turned to the next page. Now the handwriting was thicker and slanted.

"Hermione, Grandma would like to know if you want anything for Christmas. She insists that you tell her or she'll fly directly to London and board your train to deliver it personally at Hogwarts. I told her it might be a ludicrous idea but she wouldn't hear it. Ask for something realistic, like a pony. It is nice to see her smile when we talk about you. There isn't much left for her nowadays so any chance to get her to come alive is welcome. Your mother told me about the friends you've made. I'm so proud of you, studying and making friends is excellent for children. You didn't say much about Ronald, or Ron as you kept calling him but I think that you should keep your friends closest. Don't hesitate to send us another owl; we love surprises, though I doubt Grandma would be thrilled to see another of the birds. She almost killed it with a broom and it didn't come back for weeks afterward. Only when your mother and I were alone at a café did the bird come and deliver your letter." Hermione chuckled, imagining the wizened form of her grandmother swatting at the owl and yelling at it to fly away. She pocketed the papers within her robes and turned back to her breakfast. She had a feeling she'd need as much energy as she could muster in order to make it through the end of the day.

They arrived at the flight lesson, joining the gaggle of students who were chatting softly while they collectively awaited the arrival of Madame Hooch. Many brooms lay on the open air grounds and confirmed the rumors that the students had heard. They were going to learn to fly at last. Harry, Hermione and Ron joined their fellow Slytherins who gave them some space. Rumors had began circulating the castle that the three had been involved in taking down the mountain troll that had made its way into the large building. All of the students, without exception, muttered about Harry being the one that killed it. After all, he was the Chosen One, the Boy who Lived, the slayer of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. No one thought that either Hermione or Ron had been the ones to do it. After all, she was just a potions nerd who had her face buried within a book more often than not and Ron, well… Ron was Ron. He was a Weasley, harmless and incapable of hurting a fly, much less taking down a fully grown mountain troll.

To Harry, this was one of the reasons why he had been sorted in Slytherin. He was tired of how everyone simply knew as the boy who lived. As if that was the whole sum of his being, his one defining trait. He shook his head and turned to Ron and Hermione. They understood each other, the fight with the troll had bonded them together and they were close now, willing to help each other in any way possible. Then, in came Professor Hooch, her robes billowing in the soft breeze that suddenly picked up through the courtyard. "Today we will be learning to pick up our brooms." She said, her voice heard over the entire bustle of the crowded students. With a wave of her wand, the brooms floated up, following behind her as she organized the students into rows, each broom lowering to the right of them all. "Now then, when I give the signal… You will place your right hand over the broom and say, UP." She demonstrated and her broom flew up to her hand in a rush. Students muttered and talked excitedly. "Now then, right hand out…" The students did as instructed, looking expectantly at the teacher. "And go!" She blew her whistle and the courtyard became filled with children who yelled at their brooms, the word 'up' repeating over and over with varying degrees of force and similar degrees of success. Harry found that his broom flew straight up at his hand, causing him to stand there in amazement. Similarly, Draco who stood beside him commanded his broom and yelped as it struck his hand. Hermione tried many times to get the similar result though her broom seemed content with rolling around on the grass instead. Ron grew tired and yelled at his own broom, causing it to get overexcited and fly straight at his face, smacking his forehead loudly. "Bloody hell…" He said, rubbing his head as his friends chuckled and he too smiled sheepishly, ears glowing red with embarrassment.

Eventually, all students had the brooms in their hands and awaited Madame Hooch's next commands. "Place your right leg over the broom, lean forwards though not too far or you'll shoot off and crash against the green houses. As soon as you feel you are comfortable, stamp your right foot and you'll begin hovering in the air. Then, lean back and you'll lower down to the ground… On my mark… Go!" She blew her whistle and suddenly, Neville Longbottom started hovering much higher than instructed. He was panicking and accidentally leaned forward. Madame Hooch was about to call for him to lower when he suddenly zipped forward and up, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Mr- Mr. Long- Mr. Longbottom!" Shouted the professor, following beneath him on foot, though eventually stopping as she simply could not keep up. Neville flew through the air, his broom hissing with the parting air as he maneuvered himself with his eyes closed. Doing corkscrews, twists and turns, a rather impressive aileron roll and a barrel roll before his robe got snagged on the twin swords of one of the statues that lined the castles roofs. Madame Hooch ran to him, wand at the ready but it was too late. The fabric tore and he fell, collapsing on the ground and groaning as he held his hand. The professor reached him and she knelt beside him, shaking her head as she gently moved him. "That's a broken wrist for sure…" She said, helping him up and keeping his injured limb as stable as she could manage. The professor stalked off towards the group of students, Neville in tow as she parted them before her. "No one is to fly without my supervision." She snapped and pointed a finger at them all, hand swooping in an arch before returning to the support of Neville. "Anyone that is spotted flying will be out of Hogwarts faster than you can say 'Bludger.'"

Off they went and Draco bent to grab something. It was a crystal orb, faint tracery over its surface and a gold band encircling it. Smoke shimmered within, curling over itself as it went from a light grey to a deep red. "Look everyone, Longbottom dropped his remember-all." Said Draco who held it up as a trophy while his fellow Slytherins chuckled and pointed. "Couldn't even remember to keep his fat arse on the ground." Harry shook his head and stepped forward. "Come on Draco, knock it off." He said, extending a hand. Draco looked at it, then he looked Harry right in the eyes. "Well Potter, if you want it so bad…" He chuckled to himself, right foot stomping on the ground and causing his broom to lift him off towards the sky. "Come get it!" He taunted, tossing the glass ball from one hand to the other. Ron and Harry seemed rather confused. Why was he doing this? Hermione however, knew. She had seen Malfoy's type before in many of the schools she had formerly attended. A leader with great abilities to take apart people and see what makes them tick but in essence rather frightened of losing their position of authority. Though Harry did not realize this, Hermione knew that his status as the boy who lived was intimidating for Draco. This was his attempt at doing a power play, as he was trying to embarrass Harry before all of the students. If Harry did not fly up to grab the remember-all then he was weak and Draco had showed him up. If he did go, he risked being expelled from Hogwarts and looking like a foolhardy risk taker. This was social politics at its finest, so even Hermione had to be impressed.

Harry looked around, some of the Gryffindors eyeing their brooms and weighing the odds of success. He sighed and mounted the stick, kicking off and flying up towards Draco who sped away to the distance, laughing as Harry was forced to follow behind, leaning close to his stick. They flew faster than the eye could follow, their brooms zipping along over the grounds. Harry had to admit, if he had not been giving chase then he would have loved to do a slower fly over, the grounds were simply just beautiful. Suddenly, Draco was flying past Harry, laughing loudly as Harry almost fell over from shock. Draco had spun around and quickly retraced his flight which had almost caused a head on collision. Harry turned around and began following closely before slowing down and looking downwards. Draco had dropped the ball! He spun his broom around and dove for the ground, wind rushing past his face as he extended a hand. He was so close… Then, his fingers brushed the glass and gripped it, Harry leaning his body far back and righting his trajectory, lest he end up splattered all over the grounds. He spun for a moment, the world circling around him before he lowered himself and raised a hand, the ball safely within it. The students ran to him, most of the Gryffindors clapping and some were even cheering his name. He smiled, handing the ball to the Ravenclaw girl, Luna. "G-get this to Longbottom, will you?" She nodded, the faint smile of hers never wavering. "Thank you Harry, what you did for Neville was brave. Many would be surprised to find that quality in a Slytherin." Harry chuckled, somewhat out of breath as the adrenaline of flying left him. "Yes well," he began, looking at Ron and Hermione who were both nodding at him with smiles of their own. "Not all Slytherins are bad." He nodded and walked off before the entire group of students froze. Harry looked around, somewhat confused and then turned back before realizing what had happened. Professor Snape stood there, face set in a frown as he looked down at Harry.

"Potter… come with me…" He said, turning around and stalking off. 'Oh dear…' Thought Harry, dropping his broom and following closely behind. They walked in silence, Harry feeling his heart beating within his chest. Was he in trouble? He sped up, now walking alongside the professor. "Sir, am I-" Snape waved a hand and knocked on a door, which he then opened and peered into. "Professor Flitwick, I require a short chat with Mr. Flint…" He said and stepped back. They were soon joined by a tall, hulking beast of a student, a frown set on his face and sneering the whole while. "Yeah, Professor?" Asked Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team as he then noticed Harry standing beside them both. Snape nodded at Harry, "This, Marcus… Is your new seeker."

 **Another day, another chapter. Honestly, I have never been more driven to write until now. This is way fun and I look forward to continuing this style of Dark AU on the books after the Philosopher's Stone. Do leave a review, as those always lighten my day when I get writers block. Nothing too fancy, maybe tell me that you liked it. That's really it, you don't have to do anything else. Also, follow me on Instagram by searching my username aCreativeWriter (I like it there) Also, the Instagram page called turntechpotterhead (they are the ones who gave me this idea.) Ta!**


	4. Machinations

**Things are progressing well, as planned. I received more questions while writing this chapter so I'm going to provide some lovely answers and hopefully make myself understood.**

 **Q: Will the owl actually drink the potion?**

 **A: No, the owl does not drink the potion.**

 **Q: Why is the Sorting Hat so indiscreet? Why was Ron sorted before Harry? Does Snape have asthma or some speech impediment? Why is the Hufflepuff common room moved from the kitchens to a tower?**

 **A: The Sorting hat is acting the same way it did with Harry in the first book which in essence is quite indiscreet. That was a mistake of mine that I actually fixed now so Ron gets sorted after Harry in the first chapter. Snape does not have asthma, I was trying to write in his dramatic pauses but gave up as I decided to leave you, the readers, to interpret it how you will. The Hufflepuff common room was changed from near the kitchens to show the distance between the rest of the school and Slytherin. Because they share the same castle does not mean that they like the Serpents and since this AU is Dark then it is also meant to demonstrate the ostracizing of the students, mainly Harry, Hermione and Ron as they are the ones that 'went against the grain.'**

 **Onwards!**

Harry stood there, unsure that he had heard correctly. Had professor Snape really just said he was the new seeker? Marcus looked at Harry again, giving him a once over before nodding. "He's got the frame for it, seems light…" The captain had a thick accent but Harry understood him nonetheless even if his r's were overly rolled. Still, Harry was thrilled. He was the new seeker! Marcus thought for a moment. "He can fly, right?" Snape looked at Harry and nodded. "He's… adequate." The professor said before nodding once at Marcus. "Thank you Mr. Flint, you may return to your class now." The captain shrugged and opened the door just as a dull explosion went off within the class. "Watch out!" Called someone from the inside before the door shut behind the large captain, muffled shouts coming through the wood before Snape and Harry walked off again. The professor was deep in thought as they walked and Harry glanced out the windows as they made their way down the halls. "Well Potter…" Said Snape, stopping and turning to Harry now that they had made their way back to the open grounds, some of the students gliding slowly in the air since while Harry had been gone, Madame Hooch had returned from the infirmary and had continued with the lesson.

Harry looked at the professor, blinking freely. "Sir?" Snape gestured to the students. "Go now. And welcome to the team." Harry nodded before awkwardly making his way back to the class. Snape looked at him go, irked by the resemblance the boy had to his father. Every day he saw Potter he could not distinguish him from James. Only the eyes were different, more pleasant. Snape shook his head and stalked off back to his classroom. Fairly soon it would be an advanced potions lesson with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and he needed to prepare an example potion for that days class. Ron and Hermione were amongst several of the students who noticed Harry's return and they walked to the side of the group to meet him. Ron reached him first, Hermione making sure that no one would accidentally, or not, swoop down and hit them. Draco had seemed livid when his power-play had backfired and she could not see him anywhere, having lost sight of him as he threw away his broom and left the group while muttering about how his father would hear about this.

Ron stopped as soon as he reached Harry and looked at Snape. "Did you get in trouble, mate?" He asked, sure that Snape had taken Harry away to berate him or chastise him. Harry shook his head, smiling. "No, he actually wanted to tell me that-" At that Hermione reached them and pushed them down, it seemed that it was her turn to help them out. Another student, one of Malfoy's friends it seemed, had swooped down and almost crashed into them. Shaken, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood back up, brushing grass off their robes before turning to each other. That had been close. "Bloody hell…" whispered Ron before turning to Hermione. "Thanks…" He shivered and looked at the Slytherin who was flying over and laughing. It was Goyle, his fat frame barely fit on the stick of the broom. "Wanker…" Ron said, even though Madame Hooch had not noticed a thing as she was busy instructing a pair of Gryffindors on how to correctly get dirt out of the straws that formed the back end of their brooms; many of the students had accidentally landed straw first on the ground and dirtied the brooms.

Hermione shook her head and looked about. She had no luck when it came to flying, as her broom had ignored her commands to rise to her hand and had been forced to grab it off the ground, much to her chagrin and the entertainment of a few of the pure-bloods of the group. To make matters worse, when instructed on how to hover she had tried and barely lifted a few inches off the ground before the broom dropped her back down. "Class is almost finished and I had no luck flying." Ron and Harry nodded and she shrugged. "I don't mind, flying is not my thing anyway." Ron turned to Harry. "Well, what was it?" Harry looked at him, confused before realization dawned on him and he remembered what it was that he wanted to tell them. "Right… Snape wanted to talk to me. He saw my flying and took me to meet the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. I'm the new seeker." His two friends looked impressed. "Harry that's awesome!" Said Ron, punching his shoulder to which Harry chuckled, rubbing it. Hermione grinned and shrugged. "You'll do great Harry, everyone was impressed with your flying. Even the other Gryffindors said it was a good display. Malfoy was livid too, stalked off and went somewhere else."

Ron laughed. "Oh I bet he's going to be happy to hear that Harry is the new seeker. He won't be upset or anything of the sort." Hermione turned to Ron and chuckled, shaking her head. The class ended and they went on through their day, finding that Malfoy had returned to his old circle of friends and avoided the three as if they had the plague. They did not mind, however. They had each other and that was sufficient. On went a few days without incident, a welcome change to the routine they had gone through. The voices did not return and one night, Ron left the dormitory to find the spot where he had stashed the books he had taken from the Forbidden Section, eager to know what was so important about the knowledge they contained. Throughout the days he had been nervous that someone would discover them and trace them back to him, as his name was embroidered in the inside of the jacket's neck but when he reached the bed he had occupied in the infirmary, he felt relieved.

The bundle was still there, underneath the wooden frame. He grabbed it, shouldering it and turning around, walking for a while in the dark hallways before making his way upwards, rather than downwards. He intended on using the astronomy tower as it was secluded and rather private; if anyone asked, he could always say that that he was studying the stars and hope that they did not check his books. The stairs moved slowly, rumbling and sending vibrations up to his teeth, his vision tripling before the steps arrived at their destination and he could walk up. The path was lonely as for some reason he had not seen any prefects making their rounds. Ron picked up his pace, almost reaching his destination when he froze. A prefect was making her way down the hallway and if he did not hide he'd be spotted.

Ron held the bag tighter to his body and thought of hiding behind the suit of armor to his left, but he quickly dismissed the notion as it was a foolish idea and had too many chances of backfiring. He looked around; there were no doors nearby, just some more suits of armor and a vase. The prefect was still a little ways away so Ron had to think quickly. He threw the jacket into the recipient, the large pottery urn barely shifting as the books thudded within it and he crouched behind it. There was some space behind it right next to the wall and as the girl walked by, Ron shifted his positioning behind the urn, keeping himself in her blind spot as she slowly made her way past his hiding place. One of the portraits, a wizened old man who held a hearing horn grumbled and startled the prefect with a snap. "What are you doing?! We are trying to sleep!" He said, the girl whirling to him before sighing. "Apologies, sir." She said with a soft smile, flicking her wand and whispering the word 'Nox.' The light went out and Ron relied on his hearing to know where she was. He stealthily shifted around as her soft footsteps receded away and he sighed, his heart beating like mad within his chest. 'That was close…' He thought before standing up and looking at the urn. 'Now what do I do…' He thought.

Hermione was laying awake in her bed, the soft breathing of her female housemates filling the air. She got up and pushed her covers from on top of her legs, swinging them to the side and dropping to the floor, crouched as she did not wish to make an inordinate amount of noise. The room was very dark but Hermione had memorized the positioning of all the items that were there. To anybody else it would have been as if Hermione had the ability to see in the dark. In reality, it was more along the lines of Hermione having a map in her brain that had the exact location of everything in the room. She grabbed her cauldron which she had previously packed with ingredients earlier that evening. Hefting it up, she held it close to her chest, slowly walking down the steps and entering the common room which at that time was understandably empty. Hermione walked now, no longer having to hide, and opened the door, the chill air of the dungeons blowing past her and making a few torches sputter with the draft. She shivered and deposited the cauldron on the floor before grabbing a coat that hung near the entrance, pulling it on and making her way along the tunnels.

She had never done anything like this before. It felt exhilarating and terrifying at the same time and she loved it. So long had she been the perfect student that just a little bit of rebelliousness felt good. Not too much though as she still wanted to play it safe; she had heard that the prefects of all houses patrolled the halls of the castle and that any student caught out of bed would get many points taken away from his or her house. That was something that Hermione could not permit herself to do, so she made sure she went stealthily and silently through the stairs and hallways of Hogwarts. She was lucky, the path she had devised contained no prefects patrolling it, as it was an abandoned area of the castle and no one ever went to it.

Hermione reached the entrance to the abandoned lavatories, pushing open the doors and flinching as they opened, the hinges covered in dust and squealing open. She looked about before entering, closing the door with another soft squeal and standing up-right now that she did not need to hide herself. She had no idea why the bathrooms were abandoned but she decided she did not want to let it get to her head. It was a private spot and she needed to brew the potion sooner rather than later. The same girl had bumped into her and called her a mudblood again, which seemed to be a rather funny thing to say before her friends. Hermione was tired of it, so she was taking matters into her own hands. The potion was of her own design and if she had done the measurements correctly then it would work to her advantage.

She cast a fire spell into the empty bowl of one of the toilets, throwing a few pieces of wood into it so that it would burn strong by the time she had filled up the cauldron with water. Surprisingly, the taps were working well and she filled her cauldron up to halfway with water, huffing and puffing as she made her way with the now heavier item in her hands. She placed it slowly on the floor and stretched her back before lifting it again and somewhat noisily dropping it into the toilet. Thankfully, the porcelain held and the fire licked at the underbelly of the metal, the water heating up as Hermione gripped several small bags that had been within the cauldron earlier. One contained cutting utensils, sharp knives and a small mallet with which to crush ingredients. The others contained dried and powdered Fragla root, crushed Juniper flowerets, the vines of the Devil's Wit plant and its thorns, all of which had been finely chopped. Then was the troll's skin and hair. She had been doing some research on trolls after the incident and had found that they really did have many properties that could be used in potions. Suddenly, off the corner of her eyes, Hermione thought she saw something move but when she turned around she saw nothing. Gripping her wand and revising some spells of defense that she had learned, she stood up and said softly, "Hello…?"

Ron had less luck in his own endeavors as he had failed to realize that once he threw the bag into the large urn it would be much harder to grab the books. Still, there was no need to worry as he was safe now from the prying eyes of any prefect. For a while, Ron tried jumping and reaching into the opening of the urn but it was no use. He wondered if he could simply turn the urn on its side and reach in but he looked at the large vase before dismissing the notion. It was much too heavy and he doubted that he could lift it up again. Lift… He felt really foolish and somewhat dumb at that moment. Ron grabbed his wand and scanned both ends of the hallway before reaching in and hoping that he was pointing at the bag and not the urn itself. He was sure he could lift the books but the urn would be a much more troubling undertaking. He calmed himself and waved his wand, casting the spell as he pointed the tip into the urn. So far, he did not think he had cast it on the urn itself so he walked back and lifted his wand, the tip angling itself upwards as his wrist strained, essentially using one hand to lift up the heavy modified jacket. Ron tried it still, concentrating on the spell as he saw the tip of the scroll begin to show.

Using both hands now, he lifted the bag and quickly grabbed it, pressing it to his chest and hastily making his way up the tower before he was spotted. The door was unlocked and even if it had been, Ron would have simply used his bowtruckel to open it. He walked in, the smell of incense subtle though still noticeable as he panted softly, arms straining from the effort of carrying the heavy load up the countless steps that led to the Divination room which connected to the Astronomy observation deck. He was unfamiliar with the place but managed to find the thin ladder that corkscrewed up to the observation platform. No one was bound to be up there and so Ron could read in peace. The steps made no noise as he walked up though the metal itself bent slightly beneath his weight. The moon shone bright and it illuminated the open observatory, a very pleasant breeze blowing through as it had no windows. A large and very intricate telescope was held aloft by several support structures but there was a generous expanse of floor that Ron could use.

He knelt down and undid the knot which held the book and scrolls in place, though the jacket ripped apart with a sharp snap as its threads which were already rather worn finally broke. Not one to lose time, Ron grabbed the parchment first as it was the smallest and he wanted to see what it had to offer. He undid the twine that held it and tossed it aside, the sheet unfolding out beneath his hands with a soft rustle. The moon was bright enough and Ron could see what was written, save for one thing. There was nothing written on it. He grabbed it, confused as he turned it around but there was nothing on the back either. He was mystified, as the voices had spoken with urgency for him to grab it. Maybe he had grabbed the wrong parchment, or maybe… At this Ron looked at the sheet with suspicion. Maybe it was enchanted so that it would not show what was written in it. That would make sense considering how easy it had been to take it from the Forbidden Section or perhaps it had to do with the fact that it was sensitive information, Ron pointed at it with his wand. "Revelio!" He said and looked at the parchment again. A few words shimmered into presence and he squinted to distinguish them.

'Not that easy…' Read the words before vanishing again. Ron huffed, somewhat frustrated. So this is what the voices had meant when they said to find the secrets hidden within. He supposed it made sense, if the information was worth anything then the writers would have made sure they made it as hard as possible to gain the knowledge they shared. A sort of test, one could say. He leaned to one side, grabbing the twine and bound up the parchment before replacing it for the scroll of Bahamen, rolling it out on the floor. This one had words written that he could see however he could not make heads or tails of them as they were written in ancient runes. Ron huffed once more, eyes scanning the writings as he turned the wooden sticks that formed the supports of the scroll. He knelt there, hunched over the rustling parchments for a few minutes before quitting and rolling up the sticks together. He did not yet know the language and he'd need a translator in order to understand what was written. He switched the scroll then for the large book, its triple locks glinting beneath the pale moonlight. He was unsure of what would become of the success of his trip if the book was also undecipherable. He supposed he could make a trip to the Forbidden Section the next night and return the items or maybe to grab some books to aid in his studies. Ron ran a finger along the spine of the book as he looked out the observation deck, taking in the view of the lake glinting beneath the moon. This was his last chance of having a successful night.

Hermione was somewhat frightened at that moment. Her fingers quivered around her wand as she walked slowly along the tiled floor. She knew that the area was abandoned but not why and she refused to let it get to her. "Hello?" She called again, a little louder this time. Again, off the corner of her eye she saw movement and she quickly turned to it. Again, there was nothing there. Hermione felt some fear begin to grow in her and she suppressed a shiver as she slowly walked backwards. "No need to be afraid, no need to be afraid…" She said to herself, the mantra helping her calm down slightly. She then froze in place, her body shaking slightly as she came to a realization. It could be behind her.

"Hello!" Said a high pitched and rather girly voice. Hermione shrieked, whirling around before panting in relief. It was just a ghost, a girl sporting pigtails and some round glasses that looked much like Harry's. She was floating up and down, a manic grin plastered on her face before turning into a frown. "Why are you doing here?" She demanded to know, leaning over Hermione who in reflex backed away slowly. "J-just brewing a potion… I'm Hermione." She said nervously. "I didn't think anyone was here so I came here to work alone." The ghost cocked her head, pouting. "So, you didn't come to visit me then?" Hermione shook her head slowly before stopping. "Well… You know my name now but I don't know yours…" The ghost gasped, the sound high pitched and loud. Hermione looked at the doors, almost expecting to see all the prefects rushing into the room and deducting points. The ghost floated up and lay on the border of one of the stalls. "I'm Moaning Myrtle…" She said, kicking her feet as they passed through the wood of the stall.

Hermione blinked once, almost sure she had misheard. "Moaning Myrtle?" She repeated slowly before watching as the ghost nodded, giggling as she did so. "Why moaning?" She wondered before realizing that the water was bubbling in the cauldron. "Can we talk while I work?" She asked, sitting on the floor and grabbing one of the bags. Opening it, she grabbed some of the crushed Juniper flowerets and sprinkled them into the water, the air growing sweet with the scent of flowers in bloom. She threw in a few hairs and the air quickly shifted from sweet to acrid as the liquid thickened, now bubbling softly as the fire kept licking at the cauldron. Myrtle floated to her side, sniffing and startling Hermione. "What are you making? It doesn't smell nice at all." She complained. Hermione shrugged, adding some powdered Fragla root. The ghost was not an expected occurrence but Hermione would rather have her company than anybody else's at the moment. "It's um… a skin potion." She said, stirring the Fragla and letting it dissolve slightly into the brew. She did not want to stink up the bathroom with the troll hairs and skin but they were important for her plan to work.

Myrtle floated and dipped her ghostly hand in the potion, squealing at the heat and floating back up as she looked at Hermione, bored. "A potion for your skin?" She asked, smiling. "Not mine, someone… else's." Myrtle blew ghost air over Hermione who closed her eyes until it passed. "A friend?" Myrtle wondered as Hermione finished stirring, a soft vapor emanating from the hot liquid. She scooped up the remainder of the Fragla root and Juniper flowerets, tossing them in and letting the mix simmer with more heat. Hermione sighed and sat back down, looking at Myrtle. "No, Myrtle. They are not my friend. She's a bully…" She spat the word as if it tasted sour in her mouth. "She calls me a mudblood every time she sees me and whenever she bumps into me she always yells at me to get out of the way." Myrtle floated down now, placing her hands on Hermione's. "And what are you going to do to her?" She wondered. Hermione looked at the ghost and considered telling her the truth.

"I'm going to prove to her that she is not better than me simply because of her blood. Just because my parents are muggles does not mean that I am a bad witch!" She told the ghost, who nodded and encouraged her. "Let it out Hermione Granger. Let it all out." And Hermione did. She had trusted Draco to be a friend but he was just like the rest of students at the schools she'd gone to. The only ones she could count on were Harry and Ron, as they had saved her life from the troll. Harry had faced Draco when he was making fun of a student and embarrassing their house before the rest of the class, causing Draco to exit in a fit. Hermione looked at the ghost again. She then realized why she was called Moaning Myrtle and why the bathrooms were abandoned. No one came here to talk to her or to keep her company because no one wanted to. Hermione came to the conclusion that ghosts had to feel lonely at times as in essence it was like being immortal but without a body. Moaning Myrtle looked young so she had to have died either recently, which was a terrifying thought, or many years ago and thus she was understandably sad and alone.

Hermione took a breath before composing herself. She was not used to telling people about her issues or about her feelings and this felt, well… good. Gripping the Devil's Wit in one hand, she let it fall into the bubbling interior of the cauldron, the vapors becoming green with sparkly silver shooting through the air. Now came the tricky part, which was adding the crushed thorns alongside the troll skin. If all went well then at the very bottom of the cauldron would lay some of the devil's wit vine, perfectly prepared for her purposes. If it did not… well, she would deal with it if that happened. Now she had to make sure not to overexcite the concoction. With her wand in her hand, she muttered a reduction spell for the fire which went from a soft orange to dull blue, the flames much smaller than before.

While Ron and Hermione were off adventuring, unaware of the each other's activities and both being extremely disrespectful to the rules, Harry lay in his bed, wide awake. "Ron?" He whispered softly but there came no response, just the soft breathing of sleeping boys. Harry stared at the darkness, taking deep breaths. He'd had a nightmare that haunted him, partly because it was frightening and partly because he did not understand it. He had found himself in a dark hallway, the bricks that lined it smooth as glass and darker than the void though they gleamed with the soft light of the torches that lined the walls. He had no control over his movements save for his head, which he could turn left and right freely. Walking on through the hall, he saw many doors, all black with gold inlays and firmly locked. As if he were walking in a daze, his body left a vapor trail behind it, grey with flecks of black that spiraled around before vanishing. If he was wearing shoes of any sort he could not tell, his footsteps made no sound.

Harry had heard some whispering ahead that grew more intense with each step he took towards the door at the end of the hall. They were unintelligible, gibberish to his ears and yet unnatural enough to have sent his heart racing, beating with force against his ribs. There had been a sense of fear about and he could not remember what was behind the door as when he had opened the door he had woken with a start, knowing that some unknown terror lay behind it but not what shape it took or what its intentions were. Harry shivered and kicked off the covers of his bed, making his way to the common room and resting on one of the couches, the comfortable leather creaking beneath his weight and sinking into the plush cushions. He tried sleeping there, eyes closing and for a while, he managed to sleep.

Ron considered his options, placing the book on the smooth stone floor and grabbing his bowtruckel, which twisted and shivered before looking up at him, slouched slightly and moving from side to side. It seemed to be somewhat sleepy so Ron decided to work fast and let it sleep again. "Alright so I need you to open three locks." The bowtruckel stared at him then glanced around, seemingly not understanding. "Um…" He placed it near the locks. "Open them…" Ron waited and eventually the plant made its way to the metal locks, digging one of its vines inside and popping it open with a click, the lock snapping open and almost catapulting the bowtruckel through the open ends of the observatory. Ron took a deep breath, glad to see that the diminutive being was still within his hand, moving it to the next lock which popped open with the same effect. He was about to move the book so that if the bowtruckel did fly off it would land somewhere nearby where Ron could retrieve it when someone walked up the steps and Ron panicked, shoving the plant into a pocket and placing the book behind him, pretending to stargaze and hoping against all hope that it was not his brother Percy. Only he knew what he would say to their parents if he found his 'way-ward' brother out of bed late at night. It had to be nearly midnight.

To Ron's relief and surprise, it was the Ravenclaw girl, Luna Lovegood or something. She walked to him and smiled, standing while she gave him a faint wave. "Hello Ron Weasley." Luna whispered, or maybe it was her normal voice; Ron had no idea. "Hello um… Luna." He said to her, somewhat nervous at the facts that she was so close to him and, most importantly, the forbidden books. She smiled and looked up at the sky, the moon bathing them in a silver glow as a cloud was blown away from it with the wind. "I like to come up here sometimes, when I feel lonely." She said and Ron had the feeling that she did not expect an answer, she was happy either way. Ron looked up and nodded quickly. "Yep it's very… shiny." He replied, stealthily moving the book beneath the remains of his jacket and hoping she did not notice.

She did, and turned to him. "What books are those?" Luna asked, standing and walking around him before grabbing the large book and hefting it up, humming softly as she appreciated the weight of it. It was not that large, the weight itself came from the bindings and the metal of the chains that tightly wrapped around it. Whoever had decided to forbid this book had not been messing around. Only now was Ron appreciating the fact that maybe, that book had been forbidden for a reason. Luna blew some of the dust from the cover and read the title out loud. "The Ancient Religion and its Gods…" She turned to Ron with a faint smile, which seemed to be the only face she knew to make. Ron shivered, unsure of what that meant but knowing that it could not be a pleasant reason. Luna walked to him and handed him the book, which he took and placed on the ground. "Ronald-" Ron waved a hand. "Just Ron…" She nodded and continued. "Ron, I didn't know that you practiced the ancient ways…" She seemed happy to have found this out rather that surprised. Ron looked at her with surprise in his eyes. The ancient ways, what did she mean? She pointed at the book and then back at Ron. "The Old Religion…" Luna said and at the mention of its name the clouds that had been threatening to cover the moon fell away, the celestial body seeming to glow brighter to the point where to the two on the astronomy tower it seemed that the sun was rising early. A silent thrum went through the floor and Ron looked around, very startled and rather impressed. If this was the sort of power that the Old Religion could hand him then he was interested. "Well... not exactly. I am rather curious about it though." He admitted to Luna who knelt before the book and patted the ground beside her, where Ron quickly joined her. She turned to him, smiling as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "My father and I are practitioners of it. Or rather, we are followers of the light. The Old Religion is huge on aspects." At this Ron held up a hand, causing Luna to stop as he reached for his bag before realizing that he had not brought it with him. He looked at Luna and nodded. "Sorry… I thought I had some writing stuff but I'll remember." Ron promised before sitting back down and listening to Luna speak.

"It was huge in aspects. We believe that to everything right there is something wrong. To something pretty there is something ugly. To love there is hate. To intelligence there is foolishness." Ron nodded, following along and interjecting with his thoughts. "So to everything there is an opposite?" Luna nodded and looked out at the moon, Ron followed her example and looked at the bright celestial body. "That's a nice way of putting it…" She sat in silence before nodding, extending her arms out to either side. "Think of nature and life as if they are a potions balance." She tilted one arm down while bringing the other one up. "If there is too much light then the night suffers. If there is too much darkness then the day suffers. Everything must be balanced." She thought for a moment, lowering her arms and tapping her chin. "There is a story by Beetle the Bard. Beetle was also a follower of the Old Religion and he put many of our teachings into his stories. My father has one of his original books in our house." She thought for a moment, as she could not remember the name of it. No matter, she did remember the story itself.

"Once upon a time, before birds sang when then sun rose, there were two siblings. The sister was loved by all Creation and she loved them back. Anywhere she went there was singing, light and joy. Food grew around her, fruit trees sprouting from her every step and peace radiated from her at all times. Cat and mouse ate together, side by side before her. Even though all loved her, no one knew what she looked like as she always wore a veil that covered her face, the fabric always obscuring her features and thus no one knew her, not really. Her brother was hated by everything that was but he did not hate them back. Everywhere he went there was silence, deep and oppressing. All life shriveled around him, grass and trees dried up, the earth he stepped on became barren and around him there was conflict and violence. With him there was no peace and all who saw him turned on each other in mad rages. Unlike his sister, his face was always bare and people always knew who he was. One day, sister and brother were talking together, both of them radiating their influences when she asked him a question. She wanted to know why people loved her even when they did not know her and hated him when they understood him. As his reply the brother stood and walked away, disappearing from sight. At first all of Creation celebrated and the sister as well forgot about her brother's mysterious departure, simply enjoying the beautiful things in life. Eventually though, it grew too tiresome. There was too much light, too much warmth, too much of everything that they had once thought to be good. They begged her to leave their side and threatened to hurt her if she did not. Bereft but understanding their reasons she left and found her brother, who sat atop a mountain and had been watching her for as long as he had been gone. She sat beside him and now asked him why everyone hated her when he had gone. His reply was simple and full of honesty. She was a beautiful lie and he was an ugly truth, and even the most beautiful of lies can become unbearable when that is all that exists."

Ron stared at Luna. He had clearly underestimated her by judging her on visual impressions alone. He was now sure that she was the help he needed in finding the power to change his family and the image they gave; plus, he had a feeling she could help with both the scroll and the parchment. He nodded, understanding some of the lesson that the story had shared. "So you're telling me that as much good there is in the world, there must be that much bad?" He wasn't confused, not necessarily. Luna nodded and Ron understood, then she continued speaking. "Good and bad are more modern concepts, Ron. What is good for some is always going to be bad for others and vice versa. If I were to take this book for myself, it would be good for me, as I would learn about my beliefs but it would be bad for you because you would not be able to learn. Think less of good versus bad and concentrate more on right versus wrong. The existence of evil is good for balance, yet there are those that would see evil completely eradicated. Then where would we be?" Ron understood then and gave his answer. "We would be like Creation when the brother left. We'd be happy at first but then we would grow miserable."

Luna sat beside him after standing for her story. "You begin to understand, Ron. That is good." She said looking up at the moon before turning to him. "You know, I think people find me strange but maybe that's just me." Ron chuckled and shrugged. "I think you are alright, Luna." She smiled and returned to stargazing. Ron was deep in thought however, the night having turned greatly to his profit and knowledge. Maybe he had not necessarily been meant to decipher the books yet. Maybe the voices had told him to grab them so that he could meet with Luna and have this conversation; though that got him thinking, long and hard. "Luna?" He asked her softly. She continued staring at the stars but she heard him. "Yes, Ron?" She replied as a comet shot overhead and Luna made a wish. The same wish she had wished for years every time she saw a shooting star. Ron did not notice, as he was trying to phrase the question correctly. He did not wish to seem odd but then he realized this was Luna Lovegood. His politeness aside, she was the oddest student of the entire school.

"Do you understand this language?" He asked her, grabbing the thick scroll and rolling it out as Luna leaned close to the parchment, scanning the continuous page that slid before her. She tapped her chin, biting her lip as she did so. She did recognize the language but it was old and obscure. It was one of the many dead languages of magic, as a matter of fact, and she felt as if she had seen a similar scroll before. Luna nodded and pointed at a rune, her finger hovering over the parchment as if it might sting her. "That's the Sanskrit rune for 'the.'" She said before sitting leaning on her arms and looking up. Ron looked at the page, eyebrows arched as he tried to make heads or tails of the words. It was all gibberish to him. "Is it easy to learn?" He said, a bit of hopefulness in his voice that vanished as Luna laughed softly. "I don't think so. My father has a book of the language that he uses to translate Sanskrit writings with and he's been doing it for a very long time. He and I believe that the old Hindu wizards could talk with animals so he's been buying books and translating them to find the spells used to get the skill." She said, grinning at the thought. "Any luck?" Asked Ron with curiosity though she shook her head as a reply, to which Ron nodded slowly. He did not think it would have been successful either. "Well I have another question, actually." Luna nodded and Ron pondered on how to ask her before preferring to be blunt about it.

"Is it bad to want to be powerful?" He asked her, unsure of what her reply would be. Luna looked at the moon, its brilliance shining into her eyes, so stark when compared with the darkness of the night. She shrugged before turning to Ron. "I don't believe in good or bad, Ron. We have to believe in right or wrong. But for me…" She mused before standing and brushing her legs free of dust. "I think that if you want to be powerful for the right reasons then you should work to be so." She waved goodbye and Ron waved at her, watching as she left, her almost white hair bouncing up and down with each step she took. Soon she was gone and Ron was left to himself in order to think. If Luna was right, and given the fact that she was a Ravenclaw she probably knew what she was talking about, then he had to work on this. He had to change his family's image for the better. And he had to become a powerful wizard.

Hermione had been chatting with Myrtle for a while, allowing the cauldron to cool down before finishing the concoction. Myrtle had promised to not tell anyone about Hermione's potion making as long as she visited often which, now that she had a safe space to brew at, Hermione had all the intentions of doing. The liquid cooled and Hermione gingerly added the finely chopped Devil's Wit thorns and the troll skin. Instantly, the cauldron's opening burst into flames, catching Hermine's hand and burning her. It stung and she bit back a yelp as she accidentally rubbed her hand against her shirt, the fabric causing the sensitive skin to grow red and pulsating with the beating of her heart. She'd at least have a blister or two but it was a price worth paying if she had done her potion correctly. She pointed her wand, pressing her once again injured hand to her chest as she whispered the command-spell, "Finite!" Just like that, the flames all died off and the cauldron began to bubble softly even though the potion was moderately cold and nowhere near the boiling point. Hermione looked into it and nodded to both herself and Myrtle, satisfied with the results. "Ooh…" Said the ghost as she floated near the cauldron, inspecting it closely. "What is it going to do?" Hermione blew some air at her hand, though it only alleviated her pain temporarily. "The potion itself does nothing." She told the ghost, picking up the now slightly heavier cauldron with one hand before quitting, lest she spill the brew all over herself and the floor. She grimaced and ripped her one of the sleeves of her jacket off, soaking it in freezing water that came from one of the faucets and wrapping it around her hand and turning to the ghost. "It's the vines that I put inside that I need."

Now whole, albeit barely, she gripped the handle of the cauldron and lifted it up before angling it so that the liquid poured into the toilet, the porcelain bowl greedily drinking at the liquid that rushed into its pipe systems. Slowly so as to not accidentally flush down some of the precious plants, she spent the better part of half an hour making sure that she did not grow hasty and accidentally undo her entire plan. Before long though, she held a much lighter cauldron within which were several soggy tendrils of Devil's wit, now pale green and pulsating with deep grey lines. Myrtle looked inside and giggled before spiraling up and looking down at Hermione. "And what do they do?" She cooed, chuckling as she orbited around the girl. "Well… She is very conceited and cares a lot about her image, plus I noticed there is a boy she fancies. And she always tries to smell nice." She put on a thick glove which she had stolen from the green houses earlier that day. "So this will give her many pimples, early wrinkles, bad breath and body odor." Myrtle covered her mouth but she spun slowly as she laughed. She too had been bullied but nowhere near as badly as Hermione had been. The girls of her year only made fun of her for her glasses, but here Hermione faced the worst form of harassment; social, racial and verbal.

Hermione then carefully grabbed the vines which pulsated with a dull grey light, illuminating her eyes as she dropped them inside a small glass tube which she had taken from her potions making set, and placing a cork stopper in the opening when she was done. She looked at her handiwork, pleased with the result. There was no way it could get traced back to her, after all this was a potion of her own devising and she doubted anyone would notice her as the culprit. It was a harmless yet effective means of getting a point across. The most poetic form of revenge there was; justice. The girl was so obsessed with how she looked and how 'pure' her blood was? Then Hermione would make her look the same way the girl treated her. Myrtle floated alongside Hermione and took a ghostly breath. "What is this girl's name?" Hermione placed the tube within her bag, in a secure space where it would not easily shatter before turning to Myrtle. "I… I don't know… Some of the students call her Duchess but I doubt that is her real name." Myrtle snorted and floated up to the window. "Sounds like a pet's name… Some witch she must be, Hermione." She sighed and began floating, moaning and keening and causing several prefects that had decided to investigate the source of a rather acrid stench to turn around and exit the way they came, as they were not paid enough to deal with stuff like that.

Hermione packed her things, washing the inside of her cauldron with hot water and then rinsing it with cold, the metal gleaming by the time she was finished cleaning it. The lesson professor Snape had given her on the maintenance of their equipment had not gone to waste and she quickly made her way to the Slytherin common room, the cauldron containing her equipment pressed tight to her as she navigated her minds map and went through the castle. Ron too was making his way from the Astronomy tower, the tattered remains of his jacket binding the three items together as he clutched them close to his chest. He had had several close calls with a few prefects and twice he had been forced to hide in a broom closet in order to avoid being spotted. It was late at night and Ron just wanted to sleep, but he knew that if he let his guard down then he'd make a mistake, a slip up and pay the price. Thus, he continued slowly and hugging the walls, pausing for minutes at a time and making his way through the castle's extensive interiors.

Harry woke with a start, the cold of the lake seeping through the stone floors and past the magical windows that held the waters at bay. Something wriggled off in the water, a dull shape noticeable in the pitch black and slightly green backdrop, algae moving back and forth with the currents within the expansive body of water. Harry stood, moving closer to the window and shivering slightly as he pressed a hand to the glass, shockingly cold in contrast to the air of the dungeon. In comparison, the room was hot and Harry stopped shivering while thinking about it. He looked into the lake, fish darting back and forth but knowing that that was not the reason he had woken up from his sleep. Something had knocked on the tempered glass and then left.

Shrugging, he did the only thing that made sense to his sleep deprived mind. He made a fist and gently tapped with his knuckles against the glass, the sound absorbed by the watery depths. Thinking nothing of it, he merely stared at the green backdrop, pillars of silver stabbing through the dark green of the algae forest as clouds went before the moon and let its light shine through to the lake. Now Harry could see better and he spotted a mermaid swimming, her hair flowing behind her as she contorted around the light beams from above. He knocked again, a little louder this time and to his surprise he saw the mer-woman stop and turn in his direction. Slowly, she made her way closer to him, tail flicking powerfully, propelling herself towards him and he stepped back, realizing how much bigger than him she was. Her body was as long as the windows and she had to hunch in order to look at him. Her face was very noticeably not human, her ears enlarging behind her head like tubes and her hair was not the same as anyone Harry had ever met. It was actually composed of tentacles of many sizes, wriggling around and curling on themselves as she leaned close and smiled, exposing her extraordinarily sharp teeth, of which there were two rows within her mouth.

Unsure of what to do, Harry grinned back and waved at her before stopping. Maybe waving his hand had a different meaning for the mer-people. She looked with curiosity at his gesture and returned it, her hand flowing through the water and sending some particles of dirt spinning around as she moved it along before lowering it. She had fishlike lips which were covered in glittering fish scales. Her entire body was covered in them and they caused her to glimmer beneath the pale moonlight. Harry leaned closer to the window and the mer-woman moved herself so that she too was closer to him. He could hear a melody that vibrated through the glass, the beings lips moving as if she were speaking to him. He turned his head and pressed an ear to the cold surface, capable now of making out the meaning behind the sounds. It was a song, with a melody that felt familiar to Harry even though he could not remember where he had heard it before.

"… in the water. Swim, swim with us here where the flow is clear and our land is dear. Over and under we go, a path that you must follow." Harry took a shaky breath and leaned away from the window, the melody becoming less defined with each inch he put between himself and the mer-woman. What did she mean? He cocked his head and the mer-woman imitated his movement, her tentacle hair swirling about and covering one of her eyes before being brushed away by her hand, which Harry just then noticed was webbed and had wickedly sharp claws for fingernails. He was going to try and communicate when the common room door opened and he quickly made his way to the space between the wall and one of the couches, his youthful body fitting snugly in the cramped space. Someone closed the door, the locks snapping shut as whoever it was that had entered made their way to their common room. Soon, silence reigned again and Harry exited his hiding spot, looking about but seeing no one. The coast was clear and he turned to the window, hoping to continue listening to the mer-woman sing again.

She was not there, the glass revealing only the murky green depths of the lake, fish swimming past and algae rippling with the hidden currents that circled it at the bottom. He sighed, turning around before making his way to the boy's dormitory, crawling into bed and closing his eyes, the soft and lilting melody playing over and over in his mind, bringing peace to his rest and at last he managed to sleep well. He did not dream of the mysterious hallway that gleamed with ill-intent or the gut-wrenching fear that emanated from that door. Harry floated in a large and expansive ocean, the water warm as it swirled around him. He could see even though he did not have his glasses and he could hear despite being submerged. For miles on end there was nothing but the deep blue of the sea, the currents noticeable as lighter or darker shades of blue in the backdrop of the oceans waters. He looked at his hands thought they were normal, not webbed or anything. He felt his neck then looked at his feet, shivering with the view. They were normal as well, that was not the cause of his alarm. It was the miles long drop to the bottom of the ocean, as all he could see straight down was bluer and his outline in the water as his body blocked the rays of the sun. He looked up and squinted as his eyes felt the pain of staring directly up at the sun, sending a dull ache to the back of his head as he blinked freely. He stopped for a moment and realized that he was not breathing. Did he need to intake air? Then he remembered that he was dreaming and decided that maybe, he did not really need to breathe the air. So he swam for a while, enjoying the solitude of being himself. Just Harry Potter, not the Boy Who Lived. Not the Slayer of Voldemort, just… Harry Potter.

The person who had made their way to their common room while Harry was hiding was none other than Hermione Granger, who managed to place her cauldron underneath her bed without making too much of a clatter. If any of the Slytherin girls woke now then all would be ruined. Slowly, she uncorked the glass vial and made her way to Duchess' bed with her hand out in order to not accidentally bump into anything. She felt fabric beneath her fingers and stealthily poured the vines into it, their soft green and grey glowing lights disappearing as the vines sunk into the fabric and assimilated themselves in a similar texture. The deed was done and Hermione shakily returned to her bed, almost dropping her vial on the floor at the realization that she had carried out such a plan. It gave her a sense of guilt and she considered concocting an antidote. Suddenly, back to her mind came the words she had learned to hate. 'Out of my way! Filthy mudblood… Mudblood…' The laughter of her friends echoing snidely in Hermione's head and she clenched a fist, resolving to see it through.

Ron reached the door to the Slytherin common room a little after Hermione had and thus had no idea what his friends had been up to, assuming that they were sound asleep while he undertook his quest for knowledge. It had been a good night, he had learned a great deal and Ron felt that soon, if he continued studying with Luna and using her knowledge of the Old Religion then he could achieve his goals. Thus, he hid his books underneath his bed, inside a drawer that was cleverly disguised as a carving into the ancient wood and went to sleep, the sheets warm as his head buzzed with the information gained from the story. He drifted off to the land of dreams, dreaming of beings of pure light and darkness that towered over him, giants of shadow and beam of light that slowly walked around him. He wanted to be as tall as them but for the moment he did not know how to do it.

On went the night, peaceful and quiet as the three slept fitfully. Hermione nervous about the future, Ron hopeful about it and Harry sure that whatever lay ahead would be worth it. After all, he only wanted a normal life away from the spotlight that had been thrust at him from his birth. Was that so much to ask?

 **And another chapter is completed. If you reached this far and have not clicked the follow or favorite button then I would encourage you to do so. I would be sad to learn that people miss my posts and don't keep up with the story. Later!**


	5. Results

**I have reason to believe that a quick little disclaimer is in order. This is not a happy story; at least not in the technical definition of a 'happy' story. Dear readers, these are going to be dark chapters, dabbling with things such as mental illness, depression, and bullying. These retellings of the Harry Potter series are dark and will get even darker as the story progresses. So, I feel inclined to tell you this. If you come looking for the average Dark fic then prepare yourself, for I do not spare feelings. Characters die here, some which do not perish in the original books. Now please, read on and enjoy.**

The moon set behind the mountains and night turned to day as the sun arose. Hogwarts became full of yawns and the bleary eyed looks of sleepy students who just wanted five more minutes to sleep before having to get out of their comfortable and warm beds. Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, had arisen a little earlier than the rest of the castle and opened the door to the small dormitory where Harry and Ron slept. He ignored the Weasley boy and instead pulled back the curtains of Harry's bed, all dressed in his flying uniform. "Wake up, Potter." He said, waving his wand and turning on the lamps, setting them as bright as they could go before pulling the sheets away. Harry awoke with a start, snapping out of his comfortable dream of solitude, thinking for a moment that he was back at the Durlsey's and that Dudley wanted to start the day's torture session early.

"W-what?" He asked numbly, a hand rubbing at his face while the other searched for his glasses. Marcus handed them to him and then pulled him off the bed, handing him the green and silver uniform of a Slytherin seeker. Harry put his glasses on and then looked at Marcus. He had no idea of how to put it on. The captain rolled his eyes and motioned at himself. "It's like a robe, mate." He looked at Harry in the eyes, "It's not that difficult." Marcus said before exiting. "I'll wait out here; we have some practicing to do." Ron groaned and covered his face with his blankets. He had no clue as to what was going on but he disliked having to wake up so early. Muttering something about just five more minutes, he turned in place and resumed snoring gently while Harry dressed in his outfit.

It consisted of a comfortable green cardigan with some grey highlights and a pair of very comfortable light grey pants, which Harry pulled up and had to secure with his only belt in order to prevent them from falling. The smooth green silk of the flight robes hung loosely around his shoulders before he cinched the leather straps tight, closing them around him as he stood before the mirror. He had to admit, it was one of the nicest looking outfits he had ever worn, even surpassing the Hogwarts uniform which had been sown to his exact measurements. Marcus had left a pair of leather boots at the foot of his bed and Harry sat on the comfortable mattress, linking slowly as the heat of the bed sheets made him want to consider maybe just a little more sleep. Before he could even consider the thought though, the captain opened the door, looking slightly annoyed at the time it was taking Harry to get ready. "Come on Potter, you're burning daylight!" He snapped before shutting the door. Harry arched an eyebrow before pulling on the boots and lacing them up, the soft leather fitting him snugly and setting comfortably around his leg. After putting the other one on, he grabbed his gloves which were also leather and walked to the door, opening it.

"Okay Marcus, I'm good to go." He said before noticing that there were a few more people awake than just Marcus. The entire team was assembled and they were running through their strategies at the light of the fire and the rays of the sun that made their way past the water of the lake, bathing the scene in a light orange and soft green. Marcus motioned with his hand to the assembled team. "Everyone, this is Harry Potter. He's our new seeker." A few of the teammates grumbled at having someone so young added to their ranks but Marcus snapped at them. It was too early for that. "Quiet!" He shouted at them, walking to one of the couches and taking the parchment with him as a few of the team continued to grumble watching Marcus stalking to the doors before opening them wide and turning around. "Well what are you waiting for? We have to practice, no?" The team quickly stood and rushed to him, Harry following amidst them all and off to the quidditch pitch.

They made their way through the castle, quiet stillness filling the air as they were the only ones awake for the moment, the rest of the students and most of the faculty still having a few more hours of sleep before their day officially began. The team exited the large building and made their way to the quidditch pitch, the faint rays of the sun shooting through the clouds of the fall morning and illuminating the castle walls and lake. Harry looked at the scenery, in love with the beauty of it all. The entirety of it all was breathtakingly magical and not for the last time did Harry feel a sense of warmth in his chest as he took it all in. This was where he belonged, amidst magic and people like him. He was sure of it.

Dew sparkled in the soft grass that covered the pitch and the team all sat down as Marcus extended out the parchment, causing it to levitate with a flick of his wand. Impressive as it might seem, that was the entirety of the magical spells the captain knew, preferring to deal with things head on, or as he liked to call it, 'the right way… With your fists. Preferably with both of them, if you can help it.' Still, some magic was useful and now he was free to use both hands as he pointed at several of the crosses on the paper, which moved over it and around several circles and talking about ducks and dodges, how and when the beaters would strike the bludgers and direct them away from their seeker. Harry perked up at that with some apprehension. What did he mean by that? He raised a hand and Marcus pointed at him.

"What is it, Potter?" He asked, as he needed to get the strategy through to Barret and Lennard who were characteristically big, brutish and somewhat slow; the stereotypical beaters. Many times had he explained to them his plans and had wished that the Terrible Twins were in Slytherin as their bludger game was a great deal a great deal better than what his team had. Harry lowered his hand, pointing at the map. "Bludgers? Why would they attack me?" Marcus looked at Harry as if he had sprung out of thin air, the question made no sense to him. "The bludgers… Potter, have you ever heard of Quidditch?" He asked incredulously, the team grumbling as their morning practice session was further delayed. Marcus could not believe the young seeker. What was professor Snape thinking, putting a novice in their team?

Harry flushed as the team complained before nodding slowly at the captain. Marcus groaned and waved a hand. "Alright you lot, start your formations and run through them, I want you all to be able to fly through them forwards and back, maybe sideways if I feel like it. Oh quit your gripping and get to it!" He shouted and the team stood, going into their locker stores and grabbing their brooms, Marcus turning to Harry and motioning for him to follow. They made their way to the center of the field where a large box had been placed earlier that morning at Marcus' request. He kicked it and the lid snapped open, revealing a large orange ball, twin leather spheres that were bound by several chains and a few shields that lined the top of the chest. Harry stared at the contents, interested in knowing more about the sport and somewhat concerned as to what the chains were supposed to do.

Marcus grabbed the center sphere, large and surprisingly light for its size. He passed it to Harry, who grabbed it and almost dropped it, having expected a much greater weight from it. He looked at it, his reflection somewhat visible in the polished surface as he tossed it back to Marcus. "That, is the quaffle." Harry nodded slowly, reciting the name in his mind and getting used to it. Marcus hefted it and pointed at the triple rings that were at each end of the stadium. "This ball can be carried by the chasers, who are the ones meant to carry it to the enemy goals. If the chasers throw it and it goes through the bottom two goals then we get five points. If it goes through the top one, we get ten points." Explanation finished, Marcus yelled at the team and threw the ball in the air, the three chasers entering into formation and grabbing it with a shout of victory when they took it.

Harry watched as they flew away, a wide grin on his face as they flew away from each other, the three chasers splitting apart and proceeding to race after the chaser that held the quaffle. It seemed that Marcus had instructed the three players to act as if the other two were enemy chasers, thus causing them to think strategically on how to hold the quaffle for the longest time possible, each vying to steal the ball and avoid any attempts of stealing it from the other two. Marcus looked pleased with his strategy and rightly so; he had been the captain for as long as Slytherin had been the winners of the quidditch cup. He kicked the chest, bringing Harry's attention to it. The bludgers within it strained against their chains, the metal creaking with the stress.

Harry wondered about their nature, though they were clearly enchanted. "These are the bludgers. Your worst enemy aside from the enemy seeker," said Marcus. "They will fly through the pitch and try to knock you off your broom." Harry looked at them warily, unsure if Marcus was being serious. "Do they hit hard?" He wondered and the captain's reply was to hand him a bat. It sat heavy in his hand, short and somewhat stout and clearly made of solid wood. Harry gave a few swings, getting accustomed to the weight of the bat. Marcus looked at his style and shrugged. If all else failed then he could make a fair beater and maybe replace Barret. "Heads up." He said, to which Harry looked at him in confusion. Marcus knelt beside the chest and looked up at the team, putting two fingers in his mouth and letting out a shrill whistle. The two beaters, Barret and Lennard, shouted loudly, waving their own bats at each other before clashing together with a loud clack after which they shot to opposing ends of the pitch.

Marcus grinned and nodded at Harry. "Watch this, Potter." He said before flicking open the chains that bound the bludgers into the chest. For a split second they stood still, their subtle movements gone before they shot up into the air, shrieking loudly as they spun and split off, curving around the stadium and attempting to strike the flying players, their practice session filled with the animated shouting of the team taunting each other, the bludgers zipping along as the two beaters struck them, the loud crack of their bats echoing as they trained. Harry grinned as the team fell into their motions, the chasers corkscrewing around each other in attempts to grab the quaffle and the two large beaters sending the bludgers at one another while also attempting to strike their own players. It was a dangerous training style but it made the other houses look tame in their own training sessions. Marcus opened one of the shields within the lid and extracted a tiny golden ball, holding it out to Harry. "This… this is the reason you are here. This little ball is the snitch. It's worth one-hundred and fifty points. You grab it? The game ends." He said and Harry took it, holding it between two fingers. A pair of wafer thing wings unfolded from its inlays, the golden filaments shimmering in the light as it beat its wings twice.

Harry could not help but stare at it. It was beautiful. "Now release it." Ordered Marcus; he had gone to grab two brooms while Harry had been admiring the work of the ball. As instructed, Harry let it go and it flew off, even faster than the two bludgers had gone. He grabbed the broom offered by the captain and they took off, Marcus shouting instructions to the rest of the team while Harry rose up into the sky, leaning into the broomstick as his body pressed against the wood and his broom sent him rocketing into the air. The wind rustled his hair and his eyes teared up, forcing him to blink freely in order to see. Slowly, the sounds of practice receded away, letting Harry feel as if he was by himself, alone and content and then… In a glorious burst of light that left Harry breathless, he surpassed the mountains and the sun shone with all its might, warming him as it glowed with power.

Harry blinked, leaning back and merely floating as he enjoyed the solitude of flight. He griped with one hand the stick of the broom and basked in the warmth of the light before remembering where he was. He looked past his broom and swinging feet, down at the quidditch pitch where he could discern the forms of his teammates flying back and forth. How small they seemed, chasing after their momentary goals. The two beaters wacked at the bludgers, sending them shooting through the pitch, the chasers darting about like flies after each other, deftly dodging the enchanted projectiles while also training themselves to succeed; yet how small it all looked from so high up. A faint buzzing distracted Harry and he looked about. Off to his right was the snitch, its golden exterior shining in the sun and just within arm's reach. Harry lunged at it, almost falling off his broom in excitement as he tried to grab the ball but it wove around his fingers and zoomed to within inches of his face, hovering before him as he righted himself and then shooting down away from him, causing Harry to follow it in a mad chase.

He had thought that the bludgers had crafty enchantments but it was clear now that the snitch was the meanest of them all, as it was sending him through the wooden towers that lined the limits of the pitch and down to the sidelines, making him duck and weave around the wood pillars that jutted out at odd angles. If he did not fly with caution, he could end up seriously injured. Harry flew for a while, always a few meters behind the golden ball, his fellow players shouting as they went about their training. Then, the opportunity presented itself. Harry extended his arm out, the wind swirling around him as his robes flapped in the air, making his way ever closer to the golden ball. He almost had it; he was just so close he could practically taste the metal. At last, his fingers curled around the small ball, its wings beating hard against his palm before he shot up and glided to the center, holding aloft the snitch, flapping slowly before curling the thin wings back into the intricate work that was the tracery of its golden body. Marcus flew to him, reining back his broom as if it were an anxious horse and nodded approvingly.

"Not bad, Potter!" He shouted as he deftly dodged the bludger that Barret had accidentally smacked in his direction. "Fancy flying like that, I'd say that you have quidditch in your blood. Keep it up and we'll win the quidditch cup again before long." Harry grinned with pride, unused to receiving compliments. "Thanks, captain." He breathed and they made their way to the grass, the training session over and the sun shining on the field, which meant that it was time to eat something, preferably after bathing and changing to more comfortable clothes. After all, the entire team was drenched in sweat, their breathing heavy as they made their way from the field back to the castle, a few of the Slytherins clapping Harry's shoulder and commenting on his skills with the broom. Harry laughed at their jokes and listened to them as they talked. Despite having just met them, he felt included and that was a feeling he had not felt in well… ever. He kind of liked it.

While Harry joined his team in the showers, Hermione was about ready to awaken. She had had some sleep that permitted her to feel rested but there was an edge to her. A few hours after putting on her uniform, Duchess would begin to feel the effects of Hermione's potion. First would come the unbearably bad breath followed by the pimples which would also cause her skin to wrinkle and then lastly she'd smell as bad as the quidditch team after practice. It felt petty but Hermione was done with being the underdog, the butt of xenophobic jokes. This was a school, a place of learning, where those that wished to be educated could do so in peace without fear of repercussion. She had no tolerance for bullies, as was about to be made very explicitly clear, very soon.

The girls all woke up as the lights turned on, groaning and cursing sparking alongside the flickering flames within the lanterns that hung from the ceiling. A few called for others to shut the lights and the rest acted like sensible beings and got out of bed, Hermione being amongst the latter, changing from her pajamas to her uniform amidst the grumblings of those slower to rise. She was brushing her hair, which due to it not being cut had grown far past her shoulders and required care both in the morning and the evening. Hermione was almost done when into the mirrored section came Duchess and her cronies, who were chatting and laughing amidst themselves. Hermione noticed with a shiver that her bully was actually wearing the robes she had used her potion on. Indeed, already she could see a few bumps along Duchess' hairline, signifying that the bad breath was not far behind. This being the first human trial of her potion, despite the possibilities of more abuse, Hermione wanted to see its development.

"Out of the way, Granger! We real witches need to use the mirrors, so get your mudblood ass out of here." The girls laughed snidely, pushing past Hermione and not noticing the thin grin that was forming on her lips. Duchess' breath had been bad. Not in an overly noticeable way, no. More along the lines of 'barely there but once it's noticed it becomes impossible to ignore and thus a massive distraction from any conversation.' Hermione shrugged off the insults, standing tall and proud as she made her way to the common room where she found Ron, his tie slightly disheveled as he blinked around, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He did not look particularly pleased with having been awoken even though she assumed he had had a full nights rest. His shirt was not tucked in, tie was off center and his hair was messy. She clicked her tongue and shook her head, hair bouncing with the movement.

"Ron." She said and he yawned before covering his mouth and nodding. "Yeah, Hermione?" Asked Ron who did not understand why she seemed so stressed. She helped him improve his image, centering his tie and smoothing the creases of his robe before handing him her hair brush. "You look ridiculous." His ears glowed red and Hermione bit back a curse for her thoughtlessness. There was no reason to treat a real friend like that and she felt ashamed of herself, though before she could apologize Ron grumbled and went to the window, using the dull reflection to brush as his hair, organizing it somewhat before turning back to Hermione, arms out at either side. "Better?" He asked, somewhat exasperatedly at her insistence. Hermione nodded and grabbed her brush, spinning around as Duchess and her group of friends laughed at her.

"Look at the mudblood! Isn't she so cute with the blood-traitor?" She commented, causing both Hermione and Ron to flush which started a fit of chuckles and giggles from the witches that surrounded the bully. In the wizarding community, being called a blood-traitor was almost as bad as being called a mudblood in terms of social status. Ron was of a pure-blooded family but the Weasley's appearance to the rest of the witches and wizards was somewhat of a joke, usually at high-society dinner parties where the wealthy talked about themselves and nothing else. The group exited the common room, making their way to the great hall to eat and prepare for the day. Hermione took careful note of the fact that the two girls that usually pressed at both sides of Duchess now stood a little farther apart meant that either her breath had worsened a great deal or that the first aspects of body odor had began to develop. She took Ron by the arm and pulled him along. "Come on, don't want to be late." Ron followed, unsure of what was happening before noticing the oddity of the statement. "Late for what?" He asked, though Hermione gave no answer.

The great hall was packed with students, the bustle of large crowds deafening now that almost all of the inhabitants of the castle were contained within it. The Slytherin team joined their table late as they had been forced to find another spot to shower due to the Gryffindors taking over the bathing room which Marcus had intended to use. They had grumbled for a bit before making their adjustments to their plans and eventually they made their way to the rest of their class mates. Harry found Ron and Hermione sitting by themselves at one of the extremes of the table, Hermione looked down the length of it and writing quick notes, for what reason Harry did not know. Ron looked as if he had had a bad night's sleep but otherwise, everything seemed to be all right. They chatted for a bit, Harry telling them about the excitement that was quidditch and how the team had warmed up to him being their new seeker. Just as he was about to tell them about the way he caught the snitch, when in flew Hedwig who was laden with a large package that suspiciously looked like a broom.

She deposited the wrapped gift before Harry, giving him a warbling hoot before flapping her wings and flying away. They looked at her as the rest of their table muttered with excitement and crowded around them, any animosity that might have existed gone with the sight of such a package. "What do you think it is?" Asked Harry, to which Hermione and Ron gave each other knowing glances. There were not many items with that same shape so the possibilities were few. Ron shrugged before giving his answer. "I doubt it's a dragon but who knows." Harry chuckled as he pulled at the thread that bound the brown wrapping paper and revealed the polished shaft of a brand new broom. The students crowding them burst in loud chatter, a few of the girls making room around Duchess to which Hermione made due notes, not wanting to miss any of the effects her potion was taking.

At the reveal of the broom, Ron looked at it, eyes wide with wonder. "It's a Nimbus 2000!" He exclaimed, to which Harry looked at him with curiosity, as clearly Ron knew more about it than he did. "It's the fastest broom in the world, no other can beat it." They all crowded around and Harry picked it, heavy in one hand before bracing it with the other. It had a sleek body and silvery footrests with which to support his legs, something that Harry had noticed could improve his flying; the other broom had forced him to force his legs up with only brute force to keep them tucked in. They all admired it and then Harry began to think, asking himself just who could afford such an extravagant gift and, most importantly, who had given it to him? He rummaged through the wrappings but found no notes. "There is no letter or writing of who's sent this to me." Ron frowned past a slice of toast and joined in the search for any clue as to the mysterious benefactor. Nothing turned up.

"Weird…" They both said, glancing at each other before turning to Hermione. She was immersed in her papers, quill scratching softly as she discreetly observed the progress of her plan, the effects developing slowly but noticeably. Where at first only a few pimples had lined her hairline now Duchess had a mild case of acne popping over her forehead and cheeks, her lips lined with mild wrinkles and a few of the girls she turned to talk to flinched at her breath. Still, the Slytherin remained blissfully unaware of her effect and Hermione made sure to write down every little detail she could see. This was, after all, her first original potion and thus any and all effects had to be thoroughly examined, recorded and quantified for the future. She was completely absorbed in the research and thus only barely noticed the fact that Harry had received mail.

"Come on, Potter. Give it a go!" Said Duchess, who elbowed her way closer to the action and wanted to get in Harry's good graces; this was the Boy Who Lived and it would be worthwhile to be seen with him. Harry flinched back at the barging female, his face scrunching up as her foul breath wafted over him. Who was this woman? He wondered to himself, not recognizing her from any of his classes. Ron too made a face as he took a faint whiff of the offending smell, unsure as to what had caused it until he took a look at Duchess. The corners of her mouth had a few lines due from early wrinkles but Ron did not think she was old enough to be one of the teachers at Hogwarts. He had never heard of a professor with such bad breath, the twins would have been all over it if they had known. "And you are?" He asked, leaning slightly afar lest she turn her rancid breath to him.

The woman turned to Ron with an arched eyebrow. "Mind your own business, Weasley." She snapped and Ron almost fainted at how foul her breath had gotten. Did this crazy girl not keep her teeth clean at all? Never mind the rudeness displayed to him, the girl had a much greater problem going on with her mouth. "Bloody hell…" He said, waving a hand before his nose. He had been struck dead center by her breath and he could see that a few drops of sweat were dribbling down the sides of her face. Ron blinked repeatedly and coughed before turning back to her. "What's wrong with your breath…" He gasped as she huffed in exasperation, sending more of the rancid smell in his direction before she turned to her friends, giggling and pointing at Ron before she herself frowned.

Duchess' friends had enjoyed a momentary respite of her smell, not daring to mention to her that something was off in a less than flattering way. As she grew anxious, some more sweat formed and rolled down her skin, further increasing the strong smell of sweat that surrounded her. "What?" She said, her friends flinching at her ire. They did not particularly enjoy her anger and usually found ways to distract her. She was descended of a very wealthy and influential pure-blood family, her parents both being powerful members of the Wizengamot that held a large quantity of votes due to the distribution of ballots and the influence they exerted on the rest of the voters. While all of this was transpiring, Hermione had been writing many, many notes on the progress Dutchess was making. It seemed that the potions effects were developing a great deal faster than she had expected, but that did not matter. As she spoke, Hermione noted the development of even more pimples over her nose, sweat rolling down her face and forcing her to blink repeatedly as she drew shaky breaths, her anxiety ramping up as the rest of the students noticed that something was wrong with her and slowly backed away.

The bully whirled around, spittle forming and trickling down her chin as she gasped for breath. Duchess was used to being the center of attention but this was not something she liked, as the faces that looked at her were not of awe and admiration, which she richly deserved; no, these were faces of repulsion, disgust and to those who were nose-blind, mere distaste at the sight of her wrinkles and pimples, both extremely unsightly now that her agitation was speeding up the effects of Hermione's potion. The girl shouted at all of them to stop looking at her, causing a scene and getting even more people to stare at her now. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in the great hall were all standing and glancing at the Slytherin table, the Ravenclaws pointedly ignoring the commotion as there were a great deal of exams soon and none of them wanted to get low grades all because their morning study session had been interrupted.

A few of the professors at the teachers table glanced from their morning meals with frowns aimed at the noisy Slytherins, unsure as to what could possibly be causing such a commotion from any one student. The sun shone bright past the clouds that had covered it just a little after that morning's quidditch practice, streaming its rays through the large windows of the great hall and bathing them all in its warm light. Duchess happened to stand directly beneath one of the windows as the sun became uncovered, its powerful rays shooting through and striking at her and she shrieked, her skin smoking as it crackled loudly, her flesh popping with smoke as her arms and face became mired with lines, the usually pink skin turning a soft grey as her features slowly set in literal stone. It was impossible for her to shriek any louder, the pain was just extraordinary.

Hermione was staring, as horrified by the event as everyone else in the great hall was and the teachers shot up, startled by the blood curdling screams that emanated from the suffering student. Hermione had not foreseen such a result from her brewing. It was only supposed to make the bully ugly and unpleasant to be with, revealing on the outside that which lurked within. Why was she turning to stone, then? Unbeknownst to Hermione, there was one factor that she had forgotten about trolls; their weakness to sunlight. Trolls are nocturnal creatures who shy away from the light of any source; one of the reasons why during Hallows Eve'n professor Quirrel had shouted that the troll had been spotted in the dungeons was because the beast had followed its natural instinct and gone underground. The legends muggles tell of trolls turning to stone are all based in fact, to a certain degree. Here Duchess was experiencing the effects on sunlight on a troll first hand.

The cause of the Slytherin suffering in such a manner was unexplainable for all present save for Hermione, who knew what she had done even if she did not understand why this was happening. The potion she had prepared was actually derived from a skin potion, designed to smooth wrinkles and cure the user of pimples for hours after application on the skin, the mix absorbed into the body through coetaneous contact. The addition of the troll's hairs and skin had taken a negative effect which of course was the intention. If the potion before the extra addition had been supposed to make one beautiful, then this one did the exact opposite. It actually had taken an extraordinary twist to its original purpose, as Hermione had noticed while writing down her observations. The girl had quickly become increasingly unpleasant to be around and even her closest friends had shied away given the fact that she no longer had her good looks to camouflage her hideous personality. Hermione had intended for that to be the end of it, the potions effects would dissipate a few weeks after application and all would go back to normal, save for the fact that Duchess' reputation would have taken an enormous blow from which she would never recover as long as she stayed in Hogwarts.

Professors Snape and Flitwick reached the table first while McGonagall called for the rest of the tables to keep to their own affairs, one of the prefects having made his way to the infirmary and informed Madame Pomfrey that a student would be reaching her promptly, sending the nurse to prepare a bed and some potions. The prefect had sounded somewhat unsettled so she prepared for the worst. Snape waved back the students, who quickly fell away in a circle around the fallen student and the two teachers. The vapors that exited the cracks which ran over Duchess' body reeked and only Snape's strong stomach kept him from growing nauseaus. "Oh my…" whispered Professor Flitwick who sat his diminutive form on the stone floor and fanned his face, both to dissipate the odors that reached him and also to comprehend the sight before him. The girl was becoming petrified, or at least her skin was. One of the slabs of rocks that now formed her jaw cracked and blood pooled out, her eyes wide behind stone features that had been set on a permanent shriek. Her eyes rolled and she succumbed to unconsciousness due to the pain.

"Professor." Said Snape, extending his wand to the frozen form of the student; Flitwick followed suit and they both waved their wands in unison, causing the girl to float in the air. They both looked at each other, deadly serious as they considered what to do. Blood kept dripping from her open wounds, pooling on the stone floor as her skin could not mend itself while turned to stone. Suddenly, with a loud snap that caused those nearby to look up in surprise, Duchess' left arm fell clean off, sliding down the fabric of her robes and shattering into hundreds of pieces when it landed on the floor, the stone shards spinning off in all directions. With such a development, the professors waved their wands and rushed her unconscious form to the infirmary, Hermione could only stare at the perfectly cast pinkie finger that had landed on her roll of parchment. This was not what she had wanted to happen at all, never in a thousand years had she wanted to cause this to happen. She blinked, numbly staring at the stone digit and trying to stop tears from forming. She tried to convince herself that there was nothing she could have done and really, she was right. That did not make it any easier to accept.

She had killed someone, or had gotten perilously close to doing so and that was not okay. It did not mean that she was not relieved that her tormentor had been dealt with, her original plan had accounted for that; no, what was not acceptable was for her to have almost taken a life. All of the lessons her parents had taught built up to one principle, and that was that under no circumstances was she to do anything that would hurt or harm others. No matter how justified she could feel about doing just that, they had taught her that she should not ever stoop so low as her bullies. The problem was, she had ignored their lessons and was now seeing the result of her actions. Still… one had to admit that the power she wielded was awe-inspiring. Despite being wrong to Hermione, she still could see just how satisfying it was to turn the tables on ones bullies. Despite the guilt of causing someone else pain, it felt well… good. It felt good to not be the victim, to not have to cower and fear the verbal lashes and strikes of her tormentors.

Harry and Ron had been just as shocked, terrified and mystified by the events. It had all transpired rather quickly and too fast for anyone to have helped in any meaningful way. It was a brutal reminder to Harry that this was no normal school. Here there were dangers that were very real and while the magic that they learned was extraordinary and beautiful it too, could turn ugly. Harry had no clue as to why the annoying Slytherin had suddenly suffered such a fate, which was most stomach turning as the drops of her blood made a beeline out of the great hall. Many of the students glanced over to the Slytherin table, the older years muttering amongst their fellows about the drama caused by the Slytherins and their love for attention. Despite the suddenness of the accident, only a few of the students were truly aware of what had happened, the rest of the great hall blissfully unaware of what had transpired. Ron had looked at the events with horror and some fright. He had been told by his older siblings of accidents happening in the castle and about students who had been sent to St Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for not being careful with their studies. Ron could only assume that such an experiment had backfired on the rude girl and had caused her to suffer greatly at her own hand.

Breakfast ended and they all made their way to their classes. Meanwhile, in the infirmary of the school were gathered Snape, Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey who were all deep in conversation as to how they could help the student. Her name was Amelia Everdeen and if this could not be reversed then the school would find itself in a great deal of trouble. Snape glanced at the visible wounds, eyes squinting as vapors emanated from Amelia's body, Madame Pomfrey looking on with abject horror. This was far worse than what she had prepared herself for when the prefect told her she'd be receiving an urgent patient. This was beyond what she could do at the school; Amelia needed to be transferred to St Mungo's and undergo a great deal of magical treatment. The skin over the entirety of her body had been turned into stone and the unnatural combination had caused the slabs to break apart, exposing the muscle and sinew beneath.

Dumbledore looked on with mild curiosity and just a little bit of disinterest. One of the Slytherins he had been told about, Amelie garnered no sympathy from him as he despised any that discriminated within his school, as it ate away at the foundations of what Hogwarts stood for. He looked at Madame Pomfrey, who turned to him somewhat flustered. "Well, my dear?" He asked, voice raspy pas this extensive beard. "What is there to be done for our Miss Everdeen?" Snape traced his wand over the stub of her left arm, her bone and muscle slowly turning to stone and crumbling off with each minute. If she was not treated soon, she would crumble apart and die. Snape reached his conclusions once he was finished examining the wound.

"Headmaster, this girl is suffering from a very severe reaction to some brew, most likely one of the many skin lotions that students her age obsess over." Said the potions master, who recognized the faint acrid smell of burnt hair and fermented Devil's Wit vine, both of which were somewhat common to come upon but not likely to cause such a reaction when combined. He was surprised, which was an uncommon emotion for Snape to feel in the realm of potion making as he was considered by the magical community to be one of the best in the business. This was one of the strangest cases he had ever seen and he had seen a great deal of them in his time spent traveling abroad. Dumbledore looked on with interest at the wound that Snape was pointing at and arched an eyebrow as a bit of muscle tissue turned grey, solidified and then crumbled off onto the sheets.

"Ah… Interesting…" Said the headmaster, who pulled his glasses further down his nose in order to observe the damage a little closer, covering his nose and mouth with a long sleeve as a wave of vapor made its way to his face, causing him to cough softly before standing back up. "Madame Pomfrey, please… contact St. Mungos. They will be receiving a patient of the utmost urgency." Dumbledore told her before turning back to the girl. Although she was turning to stone, potions derived from mandrake juice would do her no good as she was not in a literal state of petrification. The nurse made her way to the owlery while the two professors talked in quietness. Something was wrong in Hogwarts, they both could sense it but there was no way of knowing what the future held in store; neither of them was gifted in the arts of divination.

Harry, Hermione and Ron made their ways through the day, attending their classes and studying for the exams that were soon approaching. Harry and Ron paid attention to their lessons, both of them managing to take down notes with which to study for their tests. It was one thing that Harry noticed Hogwarts had in common with muggle schools. Standardized testing; however to Hogwarts' credit, the school did it better. Hermione though was distracted through the classes, in a daze throughout the day and when night reached them she forgot to fulfill her promise to Myrtle and visit the ghost in the abandoned lavatories. Harry stayed in the common room after all of the Slytherins went to bed, he had some papers to write assigned to him by professor Snape on the properties of Wormwood and powdered Asphodel root. From McGonagall, he had been assigned to write a five thousand word parchment on the properties of the Alohomora enchantment and its uses in the muggle world. He also had to ensure he slept soundly as he had quidditch practice again the next morning; they had a game soon and Harry was rather excited at the prospect.

Ron had excused himself earlier, grabbing the book of the Ancient Religion and casually walking to the Astrology tower, making his way up the moving stairs and casually avoiding eye contact with any students. Dinner had ender early for him and he had intended on letting Luna know that he would be in the Astronomy deck, this time with a quill, ink and some parchment with which to write down notes. Even though the day had started very strangely life went on and he was excited to learn more about the religion that Luna and her father practiced. He had been thinking on what lessons the story she had told him the previous night held. About the Bright Lady and the Dark Man and the way that Creation treated them both. He walked up the changing stairs, his attention on his thoughts and not on where he was going.

Ron almost bumped into a wall before he noticed where he was, his mind ceasing to take apart the probably meanings behind Beetle the Bard's story. He found himself in an empty hallway and unsure as to what he was doing there. It was later after dinner and by then all students were supposed to be within their common rooms. Ron whirled around as a cat meowed and he stared into the red eyes of Mrs. Norris, Filch's grungy looking cat, which meant that the caretaker was not far behind... Just as Ron thought of that, he heard the pounding of boots on the ground, a lantern shakily growing near as Ron turned tail and ran in the opposite direction. Mr. Filch was infamous in the castle for his love of medieval punishments which he almost never got to enact but still loved to threaten students with. He was not going to give the caretaker the pleasure of adding his name to his list of students to keep an eye on in the future.

The hallway was long and Ron could only see a few steps ahead as the rest was plunged in darkness. Eventually, he reached a wooden door which he slammed against, the book he had been carrying almost falling to the floor as he frantically tried to pry the door open. It was locked and would not budge. Ron turned around, the lantern flickering softly as Filch made his way through the corridor. The old caretaker was hard of hearing and thus only knew that a student was in the hallway, having lost sight of Ron seconds after he entered the hallway within which was his cat, meowing for him to come to her. He could see nothing, lifting his lamp shakily in one hand as he picked up the purring feline. "Whose there…" He grumbled, shakily walking onwards, the metal handle of his lantern creaking softly as it swayed about. The cat hissed and Mr. Filch glanced in all directions, not seeing anyone. Perhaps the cat had been following a ghost and the specter had moved in past a wall; either way, there was no one there and the ancient caretaker turned around, exiting the hallway.

Ron had his surprisingly quick wits to thanks as at the last second he had remembered the correct wand movements for the 'Alohomora' spell. Earlier that morning, McGonagall had gone on a long discourse on the origins of the spell. Old West Africa Sidiki sorcerers had devised the spell while practicing geomancy when one of them had left her divining rod locked inside a wooden chest and forgotten to bring the key with her. In the ancient dialect it meant, 'friendly to thieves,' which had been rather interesting for Ron to learn as he had all of a sudden developed an interest in ancient languages. A passing fancy, McGonagall assumed, who was already used to the pranks pulled by his older siblings, especially the twins. Ron breathed a soft sigh and pressed his forehead to the old wood of the door. That had been far too close.

A rattling wind blew over Ron, musky and rank. He slowly turned around before freezing on the spot as he appreciated the room's single occupant. In his musings, Ron had wandered into the second floor which was strictly off limits to all students and not knowing where he was, had run to the nearest door. That door also happened to be the reason why the entire floor had been forbidden to all students, as it contained one of the most fearsome guardians the castle knew. A towering, thirty-foot tall, three headed dog stood with in it; all three heads growling as they each turned to Ron who felt that his knees would weaken and collapse beneath him at any moment. He whimpered and stumbled back as the giant dog growled loudly, the sound echoing within the room with the force to shake the floor. Ron did not know why the dog was there but he most definitely knew that it was not going to let him stay there for a chat and some tea and crumpets. Finished issuing its challenge, the dog began barking, all three jaws snapping up and down as the main body inched forward, straining against the shackles that bound it. Ron turned around and threw open the door, sending it slamming against the wall and running for his life. It was not a night he would forget anytime soon.

Hermione lay on her bed, the covers covering her body as she stared up at the ceiling. That was not the way she had imagined her plan to go. The results had been extraordinary and great but not good. Hermione felt twin tears trail down the sides of her face, mingling with a few more that had been shed onto her hair and pillow. She felt extraordinary guilt, crushing almost. No one deserved to feel such pain, such agony. Hermione prided herself in her capacity to see the outcomes of all possible plans. Everything was logical and had to follow a path that connected with a machination, which lead to a result and ended with the intended consequence. Only this time… well, this time it seemed that she had overstepped her capacity to foresee consequences. She had spent a day free of bullying but she had not been able to appreciate it until past dinner time when she had joined the rest of Slytherin house in the common room. The girls that had beforehand made fun of her now left her alone, most of the quietly whispering about the cause of Amelia's ailment.

She could not handle it anymore and she got out of bed, her mind filled to bursting with the effects her potion had taken on her bully, replaying over and over the skin turning grey and cracking, thin rivers of blood cascading down her body and onto the floor. In her memory, the sound was loud, almost as loud as rain falling from the sky onto the lake. The cracking felt to her as strong as thunder and the eyes… That morning, Amelia had been too distracted with the changes she was undergoing to Hermione's guilt riddled mind conjured up thoughts of the girl turning her and staring… just staring. Hermione thought of Amelia's face set in stone, her eyes slowly milking over and solidifying… She had reached the common room and found Harry, who was immersed in a paper he was writing, a few parchments crumpled up around his feet. He was too absorbed in his work and thus did not notice the state she was in, mouthing his writing as the quill scratched at the parchment, the sounds filling the air.

Hermione sat on the border of the window, concentrating on the outside lake, the water glowing a deep green and the fish that swam within it glimmering silver as soft moonlight bounced off their scales. She enjoyed the quiet that surrounded the windows, almost as if there had been a noise dampening spell placed around them. At that moment, Hermione did not care one way or the other. She had wanted to get revenge on someone who had made her life hard for no other reason than their entertainment and the result had been less than optimal. She had heard the whispers. The girl had been sent to St. Mungos in an emergency train ride and by the time she had arrived it was rumored that she had been almost a statue. Hermione shook her head and glared daggers at the green backdrop though she knew she was being illogical, as the accident had not been the lakes fault. She shivered and hugged her knees to her chest, looking idly as a fish swam before her, its round eyes darting back and forth, swimming along and inhaling smaller fish before being devoured by a large grindylow, which ripped into the fish and clouded the water with dust, grime and fish entrails. Hermione felt ill at the sight and walked to one of the couches, feeling as if her body was made of helium, since she could not feel much of anything.

With a bang, the common room door opened and both her and Harry jumped, startled before realizing that it was just Ron. Then Harry noticed that Ron seemed to be in a state of panic as he looked about ready to cry and was almost dropping his book. "G-g-g-g-g-g-g…" He stuttered, shakily making his way to the couches and promptly dropping himself in one. For a few minutes, no one said anything save for Ron's stuttering though that did not really count as speaking. "Ron?" Asked Harry, who was somewhat surprised to find that his friend had not been in bed already; most odd. "It was a giant dog!" Shouted Ron, looking at them both with startled eyes and a face that seemed about ready to shriek at a moment's notice; Harry could see now that something bad had happened to Ron, but what did he mean with giant dog?

Eventually, both Harry and Hermione managed to calm down Ron, Hermione talking to him in soothing tones while Harry had the kettle brew a calming tisane. After a while, Ron held the cup in his hands, shivering as he recounted to them his experience with the hallway, Filch and the eventual meet up with a giant, three headed dog. They all sat in silence, realizing just how close Ron had been to dying at that moment and how lucky he had been to not get mauled by the beast. Only Hermione, now distracted from her own self-destructive thoughts, asked the real questions. "What do you think it's doing there?" She wondered out loud though Harry and Ron had no answers. Ron could not believe his luck and decided to sent Luna a note to thank her for teaching him and to see if she could help him find a safer time to meet and talk. Ron did not want the incident happening again, as he doubted he would survive a second encounter with the monster.

The three chatted softly and slowly the gloomy mood that had set that morning vanished as they laughed, being children once more and forgetting for a moment that the world they lived in was far from safe and treacherous. Harry wondered to himself and then turned to Ron and Hermione. "You know who I think can tell us about the dog?" He asked them and they looked at each other, the three reaching the same conclusions and voicing them at the same time. "Hagrid!" They glanced at one another, excited grins on their faces. If there was one person in the school who would know about it and be willing to accidentally tell them, it had to be Hagrid, the groundskeeper. So, they made plans for the next evening and then left for bed. It would be an interesting day, tomorrow.

Harry wished Ron a goodnight and lay on bed, turning off the lights with one hand and with the other placing his glasses on the side table. He closed his eyes, feeling himself sink into the realm of dreams once again and this time in more control of himself. He was in the dark hallway but this time he was not forced to walk to the fear-inducing door. He strolled through the place, completely unaware of where he was but knowing that if he was seeing it, it had to be because there was something there that he had to see. Harry did not believe in fate or in destiny, his childhood had taken that belief out of him quickly. However he did think that all things happened for a reason. Thus, he concluded that if he was seeing that strange place again, it had to be for something.

Ron shivered quietly as he replayed the meeting he had had with the monstrous dog. He really could not believe how lucky he had gotten. By all rights, he should have died and been on his way to becoming fertilizer. Ron did not know why he had been spared but he did know that something was being guarded by that dog and he wanted to know why. Whatever it was, it had to be worth a lot if it meant that it was being protected by such an extreme guard. Before drifting off to sleep, he vaguely thought of the issue of the Daily Prophet they had read those weeks ago, how Harry had described the item as small, stone-like and then how Hagrid had stopped himself from saying the name of the other party involved in the scheme. Nich something… Well, Ron thought. If it was important then they would figure out in the morning. He yawned and stretched before setting in comfortably in his bed, pulling the covers up and tucking his legs up as he began to snore softly.

Hermione found it troubling to sleep but she managed and was blessed with a dreamless sleep, her breathing steadying as she slowly let herself go into sleep. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was sleep. So she did, completely passed out in her bed as the strain of the day left her body. She forgot about the imaginary look given to her by Amelie, about the augmented sounds of blood striking the floor and the wailing shrieks that the girl had somehow managed to release from herself. All Hermione saw was darkness in her dreams, floating about and not seeing anything. For once, she was happy that way. Not knowing was a welcome change and she slept soundly.

The moon made its course through the heavens, the stars circling over the sky and a few stray comets shooting by. Luna sat in the Astronomy tower, not caring one way or the other that Ron had not shown up. She liked the peace and solitude almost as much as she liked the pleasant company he had proven to be. It was quiet and nice and Luna thought back to her early childhood as another shooting star made its way through the cosmos. She closed her eyes, making her wish once more. It was for her to see her mother again. Pandora Lovegood had been an extraordinary witch, loved by her peers and who also loved her husband and daughter fiercely. She was a practitioner of the old Religion, much like Xenophilius and Luna were though she took it a step further and devised spells which were a mix of the magic brought to England by the Romans and the old language of magic that the druids had spoken. Pandora had been devising one such spell when it went horribly, horribly wrong. Worse, it had backfired on her before the very eyes of Luna who was then traumatized and remained disconnected for weeks after the funeral. It had been a closed casket affair.

Luna firmly believed that she would see her mother again once she too, died. But there were moments when she wished that she could have hugged her mom, one last time.

 **All things have consequences, those that we can foresee and those we cannot. It is up to us to deal with them appropriately and to, if at all possible, avoid the negative outcomes while preserving the positive ones. I hope you enjoyed yourselves, as writing this was a fun task. I must tell you now that I will be posting a chapter once a week, most likely on Sunday afternoons/evenings. I have studies that require my attention and some exams coming up but worry not; I am not abandoning this story. That point will come once all seven books have been re-written and I feel satisfied with their state. That however, will happen in the far future. Thus, I suggest you be patient and enjoy my writings. Follow, or favorite and do let me know what you'd like to see in the future.**


	6. Answers

It was a few days after the events in the great hall that Harry, Hermione and Ron managed to at last find some time to visit their friend, Hagrid. School work had kept them busy and in order to not lag behind on their classes, the three had been forced to spend the majority of their time in the library. There, they had managed to study for a few hours after their lessons, working on their assignments and practicing the spells which the professors had requested they learn. Hermione had not been sleeping soundly as she often woke up in the middle of the night due to the nightmares that hounded her, though that had a simple solution. She required a sleeping tonic and could easily prepare it though after the catastrophic backfiring of her potion, Hermione did not feel comfortable brewing anything to use on herself. Being logical, she of course knew that there was nothing to fear but every time she looked at her cauldron she felt the twisting clench of blame in her gut.

She firmly believed that Amelia, despite all the bad she had caused Hermione and the feelings that she had hurt, did not deserve to die. Right now she was in St. Mungo's, the wizarding world's most advanced hospital, being treated by a team of extraordinarily qualified surgeons and nurses; all of them gifted witches and wizards. Amelia would not die, but that did not make it any easier to accept how close Hermione had been to involuntary manslaughter. She knew that murder was a very serious crime in the muggle world and in the wizarding community. To take a life was seen a serious transgression by the Wizengamot and even the lightest of sentences for the crime would send the accused to no less than a year in Azkaban. Hermione shivered as she thought of the terrible name and the horrors that were its guards; dementors, creatures of darkness and unholy magic. How the Ministry was capable of controlling them was beyond her though she doubted that the dark beings accepted galleons as payment for their services.

Out of morbid curiosity, Hermione had read up on the subject of the dread magical prison and learned a great deal more than she had wanted to know, particularly about the life expectancy of its residents. She shook her head; it would not do to scare herself when she already felt so afraid. To Hermione's credit, the concoction she had brewed had been impossible to trace back to her and thus the investigation conducted by the Ministry had been dropped though there was still a sense of unease around the female Slytherins that had been part of Duchess' close group of friends. It was their belief that whoever had caused this to happen would target anyone of them next and, somewhat comically, they had all gotten into an argument as to why each of them would be the next due to their closeness to Amelia, highlighting the favor they had with her and why they should be the next to catch the attention of the attacker.

To Hermione, this seemed like complete madness. Why would any of them want to suffer such a fate? It was a ludicrous situation and it drove home to Hermione that she was not in a normal school, with normal students or normal teachers. A normal school would not have students learning something as dangerous as magic, nor would it have the ingredients to dangerous potions available for anyone to pick at their hearts content. This was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There was no 'normal,' despite how many of the students tried to see it like that. It was all extraordinary and as much as Hermione loved the opportunity to learn about spells and potions, she did not believe that the actions she had taken were justified.

That was the logical half of her mind speaking. It relied on logic, cold facts and hard evidence with which to provide Hermione with the correct information and the right answers to her problems. It had seen her through many problems which, thanks to her agile mind, she had managed to solve successfully and avoid unwanted attention. Now that she had magic, at least a means with which to properly use it, she had developed another half, one of emotion and instinct. While logically she knew that having bullies was a normal occurrence for children like her, the emotional half had given her the idea of concocting the potion with which to enact her revenge. And much to Hermione's own personal shame, she had somewhat enjoyed the shrieks of her bully, delighting in causing the same pain that Hermione had felt for her school life, as far back as she could remember.

Still, she felt that it was wrong. Or was it? The girl who had so relentlessly bullied her for her parentage had been the one in the wrong and no one had batted an eye at it. Was Hermione to blame for defending herself? She did not think so, but such a claim before the magical courts would be as useful a shield as trying to bail the Titanic with a plastic cup. She just had to hope that suspicion did not fall on her and all would be alright… Just then, Harry waved a hand before Hermione and she startled back to the present. Harry had been trying to get her help on one of the assignments given to them by professor Flitwick and he had asked her the same question for a few minutes only now realizing that she had a faraway look in her eyes and was not at all with them at that moment.

"Hermione?" Asked Harry and she blinked several times before turning to him with a grin, one hand rubbing at her eyes as she stifled a yawn with the other. She had forgotten where she was but now that Harry had helped her back she could concentrate on schoolwork. This essay they had been assigned was proving particularly difficult to research and it did not help that she kept having those intrusive thoughts constantly barraging at her mind. She had to find a way for them to stop. "Hermione!" Not quite a shout, but definitely not a whisper either. Harry gripped her shoulder and shook her gently. "Bloody hell mate…" Said Ron, who was leaning over the table and staring at Hermione's face with intensity. "She's paler than Nearly-Headless Nick…" They both seemed concerned for her and while she found it both nice and touching, she had to finish the essay that was due the very next day as another late assignment would force her to take extra-work and with the stress of exams looming she knew she would buck beneath the weight of it all.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, mildly concerned. Something was wrong with Hermione and they did not know what they could do to help. Perhaps a visit to the infirmary and a check up by Madame Pomfrey would help their friend? Either way, they had more pressing matters to attend; after all, maybe Hermione just had a cold and they were making a big deal out of nothing. Best to keep their eyes peeled and see if anything went wrong. If it did, then they would tell the nurse and she would help Hermione; though if nothing happened then there was nothing to worry about and they could continue on with their day. The overall plan was to meet up with Hagrid and ask him about the gigantic dog; why it was there, where it had come from and what was it doing in the castle? Ron wanted to know as he felt rather upset over the fact that his Hogwarts career could have ended in a very painful death. He was not bitter, no.

"I left a note for Hagrid to read, telling him we'll be visiting tonight." Said Harry, who had decided to take matters into his own hands and organize the day so that they could make profit of their visit to the groundskeeper. Knowing more about the monstrous dog was good but the three had a feeling that Hagrid knew more about what had been stolen from the Gringotts vault than he let on. So, they continued through the day and with their studies; after all, they had classes to work on and homework to do and it was not like they could use their visit to Hagrid as an excuse for not doing their work.

The day carried on and the three met at the Slytherin common room, dressed in some more comfortable clothes and a coat each. It was near the end of November and it had rained for the last week and a half which caused the air to be humid and cold enough to give the impression of having invisible daggers thrust into ones bones. They had eaten and gotten through some more of their homework before the large enchanted clock in the common room clanged its bells and informed all present that it was time to go to bed. Or in the three's case, time to go visit Hagrid in the relatively illegal activity of staying up past their bedtime and going to the grounds at night. The act carried certain risks but if they were know more it was the only option.

Harry and Ron were both ready and waiting by the entrance to their common room for Hermione to join them. They had followed the rest of the male students to their dormitory but instead of changing into their sleeping clothes, Harry and Ron had actually grabbed their coats and thicker pants in order to keep at bay the chill of the night. It was likely that their visit would go one of two ways. Either Hagrid would dismiss them as technically, they were not supposed to be going out; or, he would let them into his cottage and they would finally learn more about why in the hells there was such a defense system inside the castle. Harry was betting more on the latter though Ron, who did not know the groundskeeper as well, was sure that they would be dismissed without further argument. Finally, Hermione joined them, a wool cap covering her head and brown coat engulfing her. She hated the cold.

Glancing about the room in order to make sure no one saw them exit, they left stealthily through the lower dungeons, the ancient pathways that supported the enormous castle allowing for an unnoticed departure and a clean getaway. Their footsteps echoed in the stone walls though they tried to be as stealthy as they could be, the sounds bouncing off the walls like invisible sound pixies. Harry and Hermione began a quiet conversation as Ron listened, still deep in thought from their earlier work. Snape had assigned them each to concoct a potion that could turn ones blood inedible to mosquitoes and Ron still could not even think of a way to start the brew. So they went, relatively silent until the cold hit them like a wall and caused them to gasp, clutching their coats tighter over them.

"T-this way." Stuttered Harry, who had underestimated how cold it was during the night. So close to the lake and it being November, the humidity in the air was great and the cold was great exacerbated by it. They rushed, running almost, to the small shack and quickly knocked on the door. Nothing, not a peep. The lights were on though, so they knew Hagrid had to be awake. Hermione shivered and raised a trembling fist before quickly pulling it back. Hagrid towered over them, the door having been wrenched open so hard it left a few splinters of wood to flit down from the jamb. "Wha… Oh is you three!" He slurred and swaying, stepped back in order for them to come inside. "Yer… Yer not suppose to be out so late… Are ye?" He asked, sitting down on a large wooden chair, the trio choosing to stand. They did not want to risk being exposed by having one of the teachers coming to visit Hagrid. Harry stepped forward. "Hagrid, we have a question." Hagrid looked at him with a look of uncertainty in his eyes. "Wha?"

Harry took a breath. How could he ask the groundskeeper about the dog without giving away that they knew more than they should. "Are there any… Big creatures in the castle?" Hagrid blinked once… Twice. HE groaned and grabbing a large tankard, pouring a great quantity of some foul smelling liquid. "S gonna be a lon' noight…" Muttered the half giant before noisily emptying his glass.

 **Apologies for this inexcusable delay. I will make up for it by posting as often as I can. This chapter was short, as I wanted to get back into the flow of things with the limited time I have right now. I trust you will enjoy this and I look forward to continuing this story. I'd like to thank all my beautiful followers for sending me such positive messages and I'd also like to thank those that donated to my . You guys are improving your writing skills beautifully.**


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